


One Week Win

by birdsandivory



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Ballroom Dancing, Cuddling, Did I mention slooooow burn?, Falling In Love, Fighting For Honor, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gladio Being A Jerk, Hilarity, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Ignis Being a Mom Friend, Kisses, M/M, Nagging, Noctis Being a Brat, Pining, Pre-Canon, Promnis - Freeform, Prompto hating doctors, Prompto needs a hug, Relationship(s), Slow Burn, flirtatious nyx, ignis thinks about prompto a lot, mutual pining at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: ++ When Noctis starts whining - again - about Ignis' mothering, Prompto lightly tells him off. He points out how lucky Noct is, having someone care that much about him and looking after his welfare. Living alone with no one there isn't much fun.++ Noctis disagrees, telling Prompto he'd soon get annoyed if he was the one Ignis was looking after. Thus, a bet is formed; they'll trade places for one week. Noctis will go back to his rooms in the Citadel (for safety reasons, he can't live at Prompto's) and live without any help from the staff there. Prompto will live at Noctis's apartment and let Ignis take care of him. Whoever cracks first loses.++ He fully expected to win the bet. He did not expect Ignis and Prompto to end up falling for each other.





	1. You Can Have Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeappletrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeappletrees/gifts).



> [Kink Meme Fill.](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=6852113#cmt6852113)
> 
> This really seemed like a good opportunity to sprinkle a lot of fluff into one of my works, since I am usually the type to really enjoy something full of angst - but I resolved not to have so much sadness in this one, since it seems like a light-hearted and sweet prompt.

_"We all wanna be somebody,_

_we just need a taste of who we are."_

_\- Be Somebody, Thousand Foot Krutch_

“Hey, that’s cheating!”

“It’s called strategy, Prom.  _Strategy_.”

“Yeah, well I think your strategy is to cheat.”

A huff escaped the blond’s plush lips before they jutted into a pout, looking to Noctis accusingly as he picked up his designated controller once more, grumbling under his breath when the prince began the game anew - self satisfied smirk upon his pale features. It was just like the man to weasel his way to a win when it came to video games, a distracting comment here, a poke to Prompto’s positively ticklish ribs there. The guy could never let anyone ruin his streak, no matter if it was ill gotten, what with his mischievous ways.

He simply chalked it up to Noctis not really being all that good at games otherwise.

The thought brought a smile to his face and he leant back against the sofa, amused as his companion began to complain about loading time, and it was a comforting realization that some things never really change. And despite the fact that most times Noctis was a complete and utter cheat did not diminish the feeling of happiness he experienced hanging out with him every chance that he got; Prompto felt...lucky.

10 A.M. on a Saturday morning never felt so simple. 

There was a nudge to his shoulder and Prompto playfully returned it, quiet laughter emitting from the both of them as they quickly chose two new fighters for their match. “Wake up, Prom. You’re going to lose -  _again_.”

“Not if I keep you from cheating, dude. That’s the only way you’d ever--”

A jubilant tone filled the air and Prompto recognized the text jingle immediately, David Bowie's _Life on Mars_ being heard several times a day for as long as he’d known the prince, his loyal chamberlain always making sure he was on time - well fed and in good shape in body and intellect. And, looking to the digital clock below the television, the blond would say he was right on the dial. Noctis seemed to ignore it, his smile having become a thin line as his fingertips jammed into the buttons of his controller.

It was a little known fact that he was becoming more and more irritated with the advisor, and maybe it was simply because he was getting older - Prompto wasn’t sure - but his best friend was positively set on turning his caretaker away with every phone call and text message, tension running a bit high in the past few weeks they’d hung out. Prompto tried not to think much of it, because it couldn’t be that bad having someone to care about one like Noctis had.

Ignis Scientia was a rather incredible man in his eyes, always caring and understanding, it almost hurt to witness. He was constantly concerned about Noctis’ health, his appointments, his mental wellbeing - and the prince might have seen it as nagging, but there was nothing better than a genuine friend who showed they cared  _and_  some. Prompto had never gotten the chance to speak to Ignis alone and he hadn't quite become friends with him like he had Gladiolus, but from passing, he knew and saw just how dedicated he was to Noctis and he couldn't deny that he wished for that kind of closeness. It seemed worth all of the constant contact between the two of them that annoyed his friend so much.

Not to mention the fact that Ignis had the prettiest face in all of Insomnia and Noctis got to look at it _every single day_.

The phone sang a melody once more. 

“Damn it. Specs again?” A groan escaped the other man as he paused the game on his television, snatching up the phone to read the message with a frown before smashing a reply into the screen, a wrinkled nose turning its way up to the blond. “He’s on his way up. Sorry, Prom.”

“Oh! I don’t care if he comes over, dude. That’s his job, y’know?”

“Yeah... he can just be such a  _mom_  sometimes.”

Prompto would say he didn’t quite know what Noctis meant by that; he himself did not have a mother, and the closest thing he’d ever had to a father was Cor Leonis. As grateful as he was to the older man for being there throughout his childhood, he could only really see him during the training sessions he’d recently picked up in order to comply with the prince’s wishes that he join his guard now that they were aging. He could say he wanted to know what it felt like to have someone act like _‘such a mom’_  to him, but instead, he simply smiled - shaking his head at Noctis’ ignorance.

“Well, I bet he’d lay off if you ate your vegetables.”

“Don’t even joke.” 

There was a knock at the apartment door and Noctis shot Prompto a disgruntled look, not making a move to stand since the bespectacled man entered on his own accord not a moment later, his knocking purely a courtesy. From his spot on the sofa, the prince gave the older man a half-hearted wave, his eyes looking toward the television screen as though he were more interested in the pixels of _Vega’s_ abs than the fact that Ignis had stepped into his home. “Hey, Specs.” 

From behind several grocery bags, the advisor nodded, setting the load down onto the counter before regarding them - placing a ring of keys atop the marble. “Good morning, Highness.” Emerald hues then traveled Prompto’s way, the blond always rather nervous under the man’s intense gaze, though his greeting was warm and inviting as ever. “Prompto, it’s nice to see you here. No wonder the prince is up before noon; you may be an excellent influence on him." 

Looking a bit prideful - albeit shy still - at the comment, he beamed. “You can say it’s one of my many talents!”

Noctis rolled his eyes beside him and Prompto thought he looked rather sulky despite the playful banter, and he would have been a step ahead of the game - giving him an encouraging nudge when Ignis had stepped into the kitchen not too far away, perhaps pulling him into the conversation with a jibe he could cheekily respond to. It was not to be so, however, as the advisor had called out - the sound of cabinets opening and closing along with dishes tinkering in the background.

“I assume by the empty bowls in the sink that you both have already had breakfast?”

The prince grumbled in his seat next to Prompto, turning the game back on with a sigh, the single syllable he soon spoke surely low enough to go unheard. “Yep.” 

There were a few clipped footfalls and Ignis was soon within the living room, gloves removed and hands being meticulously dried with a small dish towel, and Prompto took a moment to admire them - finding that it was one of the rare moments in which the advisor did not have leather hugging his fingers, but the distraction was forgotten when he looked to the man’s visage. Lips were pressed into a hard line, rather unamused at being ignored, he assumed. Still, he made to remedy that with a shy smile, looking away from the game for a moment. 

“Yeah, sorry, man! I was starving this morning and raided the cereal cabinet.”

“That is quite alright, Prompto. Shall I make you two anything for the afternoon? Pastries or the like?”

The blond perked up at the offer, terribly fond of the chamberlain’s desserts, at least - the ones he’d had the pleasure of tasting. He wondered briefly if Ignis would take requests; he was dying to try the blueberry one Noctis often talked about.

“Nope, we’re good.”

Best friends could be such  _traitors_.

“Aw, Noct! Come on, if Ignis wants to make pastries, we should let him!”

“ _Prom._ ” The prince seemed set on his decision and Prompto had to bite his cheek, not wanting to say anything rude in front of Ignis; Noctis was doing a fine job of it on his own anyhow. The face of his closest friend gave nothing away as he looked to the advisor, the characters he and the prince chose for their match standing idle on the screen, calling out catchphrases now and again. “We’re good, Ig. It’s a Saturday, so you can take the day off or somethin’.” 

Ignis set the towel over his arm as he moved to retrieve his gloves from his coat pocket, wiggling his fingers back into them and sighing lightly, the gleam of his spectacles doing nothing to hide such remarkable hues. “I am afraid that I cannot do that, Noct. Now, have you seen my texts from this morning? I was looking over your calendar and you’ve yet to have a proper check up this year. I was planning to discuss a date with you.”

A whine followed the man’s words, Noctis throwing himself dramatically across the remainder of the empty space on the couch, a frown tugging at his lips - though Ignis only continued as if he were used to the kind of treatment the prince presented him with. 

“Your father would like to spend time with you this evening as well.”

Prompto thought the way the older man took care of Noctis was kind of thoughtful, because really, Ignis did not have to worry so much about scheduling health appointments. He did not have to remind him of every single important time and date for every event he had to attend, and then send him daily reminders of little things he was known for forgetting; he did it because he really felt deeply for him. Maybe eighteen odd years of it could be a bit overwhelming, but the gunner-in-training thought it was a blessing more than anything.

If only Noctis knew what he had.

“He couldn’t tell me that?” 

Prompto felt as though he were in the middle of something that was becoming increasingly private, as Ignis had looked to him, his gaze only making him shrink back into his seat - unrelenting, despite the fact that the lines around his own frown seemed to soften. After a moment, the man resumed, shifting his weight from one polished shoed foot to the other. 

“He was a bit busy with meetings, Highness, but he will be available--”

“ _Come on_ , Ignis. I’m not going. Can you just do me a favor today and bug off?”

There was something almost sad within the strands of Ignis’ too green eyes then, Prompto noticed, a split second of disappointment - of hurt and heartache he knew all too well, he was sure. He’d felt the same look placed upon him from Cor, vaguely remembering his own solemn expression when he’d rejected the chocobo plush the man bought him after an argument that ended with the blond definitely not being allowed to be homeschooled. 

Prompto didn’t like seeing it on the face of the advisor. 

However, Ignis did not seem to wish to argue any longer, visage a stone mask once more as he cleared his throat, taking a resigned step back. “I will be in a meeting until 3:30. If you need me, you need only send a message. Your father will be expecting you at 6 PM, if you change your mind.” 

Turning, he made to pick up the keys on the counter, having been set there with the rest of the groceries, and stepped out of the apartment - closing and locking the door behind him.

Noctis let out a sigh of relief with the man’s departure, looking back to the screen and giving Prompto’s character - the one and only  _Juri_  from  _Street Fighter_  - a swift punch, which he hadn’t noticed at first; his eyes were glued to the closed door, contemplative. It took but a few more exaggerated hits for the blond to scramble back into gaming mode, playing rather lazily as his thoughts were elsewhere, neither of their actions really hitting home. 

“Hey, Noct?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think you were being a little harsh? Iggy looked kind of upset.”

“Ignis doesn’t get upset. If anything, he nags even more.”

As though on cue, the tune assigned to the man rang through once more and Noctis made for the device, an irritated growl at the back of his throat as he showed Prompto the screen - smudges from his fingertips across the glass. “Look! Look at all of these stupid reminders. I wish he’d just relax and leave me alone. I can take care of myself.”

“He only sends them because you forget, right? And he makes you food whenever you ask, picks up your pre-orders for games.”

Looking a bit miffed, Noctis shrugged his shoulders. “That’s not the point.”

For a second, Prompto empathized with Ignis’ position, feeling as though it must hurt to care so much about someone who only takes it for granted. He didn’t exactly like thinking of his best friend as someone who didn’t appreciate a good thing when he has it, but there was a sadness in his heart for the advisor, because he really seemed to give Noctis everything he needed and more without a single complaint.

The blond frowned, setting the controller down and though his tone was light and conversational, he was clearly off put by Noctis’ behavior. He gave the other man a hard stare that was immediately challenged, but it didn’t deter Prompto; he knew his friend’s tantrums too well. “Hey, that’s not fair, you know. You’re really lucky to have someone like Ignis.”

The prince snorted. “Yeah, to boss me around and call me out like he’s my parent. Not even my own dad does that.”

“He really cares about you! Do you know how great that is? He wants you to be happy and healthy - and all the stuff that really matters.” Prompto pressed his lips together, slightly worrying them between his teeth as his gaze traveled away from the other and to his own cellphone sitting upon the table, a device that hardly rang unless he was contacted by the man beside him and ever so rarely - Cor. “Living all alone, without anyone there to spend time with? It’s no fun, man.”

There was the sound of shuffling and Prompto looked back to the other to find that he shut the game off entirely, the background music surely grating at both of their nerves. “You don’t get it, Prom. He’s always there, always. Even when he’s not?” Waving the phone before him in gesture, he tossed it to a bean bag chair across from the coffee table. “He is.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad, though. He’s, I don’t know...on top of things? And he sits in on meetings that you don’t want to go to, drives you where you need to be driven. I mean, he’d probably do anything for you, if you asked.”

One of the prince’s hands shot up into his own ebony locks, running through the strands several times before giving Prompto an exasperated look.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if it were you he was always nagging. Ig would annoy you right away, I know this for sure.”

“I doubt being reminded of what I have to do and being cared about would be so horrible, ‘specially since he does all that extra stuff for ya. And that’s beside the point, we both know you’d never make it on your own!”

The look on Noctis’ face then was a bit disconcerting, as that frustrated downturn of the lips was soon replaced with a devious smile and the gunner was immediately curious, gears turning within the man’s head never a good sign - but the results were always fun, despite the consequences.

“ _Wanna bet?_ ”

The question caught Prompto’s interest instantly, never one to turn down a challenge, especially since it was a good chance to knock Noctis down a peg or two, because there was no doubt he’d lose this one. 

Of course, he was probably thinking the same of Prompto himself.

“A bet?”

“Look, why don’t I hand Specs over to you for one week? He’ll give you the same treatment he gives me, down to the hourly messages. And I’ll live without him nagging me the whole time. If I crack and can't handle it, you win and vice versa. You can even stay here; I’ll hide out in one of the rooms in the Citadel.”

“No help from any of the servicemen! Or the maids.”

“...Fine. I’ll do everything myself.  _Everything_.”

The blond gave himself a moment to contemplate the idea, thinking that it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone to keep him company throughout the week; it isn’t as if he had the chance to spend time with Noctis  _every day_. And if he were to truly think about it, it would be a rather simple win, as his best friend was as spoiled as they came and he wasn’t afraid to use that fact to his advantage.

It didn’t hurt that he’d get the opportunity to get to know Ignis, either. They were to be working together in the future and if possible, he’d like to do so as friends, admiration for him aside. It was a selfish thought, an excuse, if he were to think about it - because there was truly no way, win or lose, that the bet in its entirety wasn’t beneficial to him.

And maybe Noct would learn a thing or two, but that was to be determined.

“If I win, I want to go see real chocobos.”

“Fair enough.”

“What do you want?” Prompto watched as a lithe body stretched upon the couch, seemingly envisioning his victory already.

“When I win? You, admitting you’re wrong. That’ll be sweet enough.”

Prompto let out a cheerful laugh, shaking his head and offering the other his hand. “Sure, man, you damned tyrant. You got a deal.”

Noctis looked terribly sinister, taking the blond’s hand in his own for a firm shake. 

“ _Deal._ ”

 


	2. Where It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for an awkward first day! 
> 
> I started this story with the idea that Prompto and Ignis haven't quite gotten too comfortable with each other yet, but our favorite chocobo lover definitely is in the stages of having a crush. I feel like Ignis is that untouchable 'cool guy' that Prompto is just enamored with, though I feel he will soon enough find small quirks about Prompto that will set his heart aflutter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_"You didn't have to look my way._

_Your eyes still haunt me to this day,_

_but you did._

_Yes, you did."_

_\- Honeybee, Steam Powered Giraffe_

The entire idea was truly ridiculous.

Ignis had awoken at a fairly early 6 A.M., already lamenting the whole of his coming week, having been roped into Noctis’ absolutely ludicrous bet he had made with a one Prompto Argentum. It had been late in the evening when he’d received a phone call that followed a slew of text messages about a rather important task he wished to give the advisor, a week in which he would dutifully become the blond’s chamberlain instead of the prince’s own - a request in which he had fully denied, at first.

It was not so much that he disliked the idea of caring for Prompto, not that the thought of getting to  _‘know him better’_  - as Noctis had so monotonously added - was a bad one. Truly, they were to interact on their own time, it was inevitable with how closely they would come to work with each other in the next few years. The issue was simply that he’d been entrusted with a job that he wished to prove he could do perfectly well and this one week bet would only hold him back from his tasks. 

And perhaps he and Noctis weren’t quite on cordial terms for the time being, but there was the smallest inkling in his mind that had given root to the thought that one day he may go unneeded entirely. 

It was a silly, irrational notion, but in a city so vast as Insomnia was - it was incredibly possible to grow apart. Ignis was not a man who so much thought of his family, as his mother and father were terribly far away, his uncle being the closest he had within Lucis. However, there was something about being there for Noctis that had somehow filled that void, and he found it would be a shame to lose it. 

Still, it was not a moment later after having mulled over that melancholy dream that he thought of the lesson to be learned from the game Noctis wished to play - particularly, what he would gather from having no advisor nor servant answer to his beck and call. It was shameful to think, but Ignis had found some amusement in the man getting what Gladiolus would call a _‘rude awakening.’_

And so, he had ended up agreeing, spending the night planning around his schedule in order to accommodate Prompto’s presence and needs - neatly written within a small pocket notebook, which he quickly picked up from his coffee table before making his way out of the door. 

It was a wise arrangement, to have the prince stay within the walls of the Citadel and Prompto in his apartment, not simply for the safety of royalty - but for the convenience of travel. The short trip would make for efficiency and ease, and surely Noctis wouldn’t mind his dearest friend being close by if they happened to make plans. 

Ignis allowed his mind a moment of reprieve as he stepped into the hall elevator, quickly pressing the button for the first floor and rushing to hit the _‘close door’_  toggle once his eye caught a hulking form jogging its way over. His effort was for naught, however, as a large hand moved to stop the doors from closing - the towering body of Gladiolus entering beside him clad in his running attire, towel slung over his shoulder. 

He stood a bit taller then.

“Gladio. How good of you to join me this morning.”

The grin he was met with was accompanied by the shake of the man’s head, amused. “Please. I know you saw me coming. If the prince only knew his stuffy advisor’s favorite game was tryin’ to lock me out of the elevator in the morning.”

“You would have beaten me via the stairs.”

“Details.”

The ride down the many floors of the Citadel was comfortable and they emerged in step with one another, Gladiolus giving his arms a stretch to show off his recently finished ink work, Ignis was positive. He half expected the shield to run off with a wave as per usual while he himself made his own way to the car, but the advisor merely received a devilish grin, a knowing look in those amber eyes. 

“I heard about your new job, ya know. Bet you can’t wait to start making His Highness eat his own words.”

Ignis hummed, his own muted delight appearing upon his visage as he spoke, voice laced with sarcasm. “Is that what you think I am doing? Teaching him a lesson?”

Gladiolus raised a thick brow, stepping through the large doors ahead, holding one open for the other man as he exited. “Isn’t that what you’re doin’? With  _‘Prince Prompto’_  as your sidekick?”

“...It is.”

The shield threw his head back in hearty laughter. “You’re somethin’ else.”

“Yes, well. Some of us don’t quite like to be thrown a curveball, if you will.”

“He just wants some space, Iggy. I think you’re taking this harder than you have to.”

Large in musculature mattered not, as so burly a man was as perceptive as he was strong, perhaps too much for his own good. It could be rather exhausting, especially given the circumstances. However, Ignis did not let it deter him from the main point of his endeavor and taking a measured step back, the advisor reached up to adjust his spectacles. “I have places to go to, as I am sure you do as well. I believe I shall take my leave.”

“Yeah, I got the message.” Lifting a hand in farewell, he began jogging in place. “Don’t work too hard this week.” 

“You as well.” Ignis only took a moment to wave as the shield’s form began its retreat, his own quick footfalls pulling him down a few more steps and to the street where his car awaited, the member of the glaive that brought his vehicle from the garage nodding his way as he moved to open the door and seat himself inside. 

Grabbing his cellular, he quickly typed out a message to Prompto, his number having long since been saved just in case he needed to get a hold of Noctis and he failed to answer the first time - further assurance of His Highness’ safety at best. Letting the man know he would be there by 9 A.M. and no later, he made to place the device within the center console, fully expecting him to still be fast asleep. However, a simple tune filled the air, a few short words and a smiling emoticon being Prompto’s only response.

It was an odd occurrence, as he was so used to going ignored for hours at a time, yet - starting the car, he found it somehow put a smile on his face.

* * *

Ignis had arrived at exactly 9 A.M., a couple of hours since his departure from the Citadel, but he’d decided to make a stop before heading to Prompto’s temporary home. The advisor gave a subtle knock on the door before inserting his own key and making his way inside, a small bundle in the crook of his arm.

He was greeted by the low volume of the television, his heeled shoes making a mere ghost of a click against the flooring as he peeked into the living room, the blond wrapped in an old fleece he’d given Noctis ages ago and an episode of some sort of animated program playing on the screen. His appearance hadn’t quite been made known, as crystalline hues were glued to the moving figures before him, his interest as clear as day from the way he was fisting the blanket around him - collar of his shirt being worn between his teeth in childish habit. It was strangely endearing. 

It was a shame he had to disturb the peace, clearing his throat as he stepped into view, but time would wait for no one. “Prompto?”

The young man was startled, but he quickly regained his composure, dropping the fabric of his t-shirt from his mouth before his expression took a turn for the apprehensive. He looked rather nervous, though Ignis could not exactly pinpoint why that may be, as they’d interacted several times before and he thought them rather comfortable with each other. Then again, Noctis was always present, so surely there was a bit of discomfort at the thought of the two of them being alone together.

“O-Oh. Hey, Iggy!”

“Good morning. I noticed you were up rather early, not something I am used to in regards to the prince.”

There was a quiet rustle and Prompto reached to grab the remote, pausing his current episode, all noise and frivolous dialogue ceasing. His bright hues traveled to Ignis’ own for a moment, though he averted them soon after, never quite meeting his gaze - though the blond rarely did.

The advisor could hardly say he minded.

“I couldn’t really sleep. I guess it’s hard being here when Noct’s not around.”

“I see. Well, I am unsure of when you will have the time to visit him this week, or he visit you. You have a full schedule.” Grabbing the bundle within his arms, he reached into the bag and pulled out a sealed video game, seeing the gunner perk up at the sight. The advisor was not a man to give gifts of such nature, but he found that this particular one would benefit them both. “However, as today is a rather relaxed one for you, I thought you might wish to enjoy a bit of your recent pre-order.”

At lightning speed, Prompto seemed to have flown across the room, eyes wide with wonder as he reached out to take the game from gloved hands. “This is  _Origins_ , the new  _Assassin’s Creed_! Aw, man, Noct’s been waiting for this for--” A moment of realization made itself known and he looked to the artwork upon the cover longingly, forlorn as he sighed. “Isn’t this his copy, though? I don’t...I don’t have the money for this, so.”

Ignis appeared the very illustration of calm, one hand moving to his spectacles, the other placed upon his hip. “This copy was reserved for the current Prince of Insomnia. Small details aside,  _you_  currently hold that role. Therefore, this copy belongs to you.”

“...Me?”

“You.”

“Because this week, I’m like, sort of the prince?”

“In the simplest of terms, indeed.”

Whatever guilt Prompto harbored had seemingly melted away, replaced by bouncing excitement as he gasped, holding the game to his chest. It was a small victory and would be even sweeter once the true prince awoke to the realization himself. “Thanks, Iggy! Noct is gonna be so  _jealous_!”

Wild movements followed and Ignis was unsure he could keep up with the energy a man like Prompto held within him, the television program soon replaced, game inserted into the Playstation console and the blond cozily cross-legged upon the couch with a controller in hand. And quite pleased with himself, the chamberlain turned to walk into the kitchen and prepare breakfast as per usual. 

“Hey, Ignis?”

 _And so,_  he thought idly,  _the commands begin._

“Yes, Prompto?”

Silence had followed, though momentarily, but he hadn’t moved from his spot within the doorway - just in case it was nothing to be bothered with. “Wanna watch me play?”

It was a simple request, one he had never once been asked before, but he thought to his duty and the bet made between the man before him and Noctis - finding it best to continue his job as it was. “I’m afraid I cannot. It is about time I made your morning meal.”

“I already ate, though! So, I mean, you don’t have to do that. You know?”

Ignis felt rather perturbed knowing Prompto had taken it upon himself to eat, which he knew was a foolish thing to be unsettled by, still; it made him feel a bit at a loss for a moment, only shaking the thought once he realized that he was still responsible for dinner, several long hours away.

“I...suppose I can watch you play for the while, if you so choose, as you have shaved an hour from my schedule. However, I will have to take my leave eventually to shop for tonight’s meal.”

“Works for me!”

With a wrinkling of his nose, he took a seat on the sofa, expecting to watch for a grand total of twenty minutes before making his way to the market.

 _For the while,_ however,had become a few hours.

Prompto had scoured the lands of Ancient Egypt, as it was so called, his Assassin mounted on a beautiful steed - to which he’d told Ignis was a  _pre-order only_  addition. He himself had not been the type to sit and watch someone else play a game before, but Noctis had never asked him to and he began to wonder somewhere between the small village of Siwa and the grand Alexandria if he would have complied - had the prince bothered. 

Either way, he found that he was enjoying himself, for Prompto was a rather excitable player, cheering when he’d cleared a specified temple, groaning when he’d stepped into an area that was a bit too difficult for his level. It was charming, to say the least. 

Even more so when Ignis himself was offered the controller, the blond looking a bit flustered, as though the interaction made him anxious. “Wanna play for a little? It’s boring just watching, isn’t it?”

Looking to the device, hands neatly folded over his crossed legs, he hummed. “Hardly. I have been making mental notes of the game’s historical content in order to later check for accuracy. You may continue.”

Prompto’s expression had changed then, his quiet, considerate curiosity becoming melancholy in image. It was disheartening in a way, his vast spectrum of emotions so different than Noctis’ stoic gazes, making him feel as though his words had greater effect than he’d believe. The last thing he wanted, of course, was to hurt the other’s feelings. 

“You know, I bet you’d be really good at it. You’re into strategy, right?”

“I have never played a video game before. I wouldn't have the first clue--”

“You’d be great at earning trophies, too. There are so many tasks to complete!”

Taking his glasses from the bridge of his nose and a cloth from the pocket of his blazer, he made to wipe away a few invisible streaks, paying more attention to the circular motions across the glass - attempting to hide any interest. “...Tasks?”

“Mountains of them.”

Somehow, Ignis felt as though he was being baited, what with Prompto advertising rewards and completion - and he, being a man who left nothing unfinished and no stone unturned, had taken it. “I suppose I could give it a try.”

“Awesome!” The controller looked as worn as it felt as it was placed within his hands and he looked to the screen, testing a few of the buttons in a manner that surely seemed ridiculous, if Prompto’s laughter was any indication. The blond sat beside him, chiming in if he needed assistance and letting him know how to call his steed. The indicators were enough, but the gunner seemed to enjoy giving pointers, so he said nothing of it. It was all good and well, he’d decided, and they carried on in such a way for quite some time. 

So far, he’d found quite a few of the constellation points, had completed more than a few camps and temples, and gained a cheer of approval once he’d successfully gotten through a rather tight spot without once being seen. 

It was marvelous.

That was, until he rode into an enemy camp by accident, having grown too confident in his still green abilities to hold off enemies. Several bandits had crowded him and he leant forward on the sofa, lips pursed as he focused on his combat skills, attempting to fight his way out of the scuffle. 

By the time he realized his efforts were futile, he was running low on health, his assassin clearly going through the motions of passing out - or so, he thought. Fleeing had proved to be an even greater mistake and he was becoming more frazzled by the second, a hand reaching upward to comb through kept hair as he inhaled sharply. 

Struck down with an arrow he was. 

There was an undignified cry of frustration that escaped his lips and he immediately reeled himself in, aware of the company at his side. It took another moment to understand that Prompto had yet to speak a word and turning his eyes to the blond, he found him staring in wonder; he didn’t think much of it, he had surely been a spectacle in the least.

Sighing deeply, he placed the controller onto the coffee table before him, embarrassed that a mere game had made him grow so heated. He made time to adjust his collared shirt, hands smoothing the fabric as he heard Prompto’s stifled laughter. 

“I believe it is time I head to the market; it is already far passed noon.”

His companion wiped a stray tear, much to his chagrin, not bothering to put words to an argument as he grabbed for the controller and turned off the console. Standing from his seat, he rushed down the hall, calling from down a ways. “Okay, I just need to get ready! One sec!”

Ignis stood as well, a bit surprised with Prompto’s behavior, so different from Noctis and so unnaturally agreeable that the advisor wasn’t quite sure how he should feel about it. Taking the man on his shopping trip had certainly not been on his list, but he wasn’t going to deny him what he asked for, as he was being a rather good sport despite the position they were in and it was his job to provide what he so wished for. 

Making for his keys, Prompto was soon back from the bedroom, dressed in his usual rugged attire - hair quickly groomed in gravity defying style. “You do not have to join me if you do not wish to. You are not obligated.”

“It’s totally okay, dude! Besides, you’re making dinner, so I can help with your bags.”

The consideration lit a flame within him and Ignis found himself admiring the younger man’s tact, and that was something he could not find in most others. “I see. Well, let us run along, then.”

* * *

The car ride hadn’t been long and, for the most part, they had shared companionable silence. However, curious fingers had poked and prodded at a few of the vehicle’s buttons, a blaring screech of heavy metal blasting from the speakers from his drive that morning - the man’s musical endeavors coming to light. Prompto had turned it down quickly in a moment of disbelief before he turned the song back up again - and down, and up, and down, and up again - his awe becoming a wild grin as he looked to a blushing Ignis with excitement.

_“Holy shit, you’re secretly wild!”_

Ignis’ ears were burning just remembering the words spoken.

The exclamation was followed by a flustered expression of the blond’s own, his exuberance fading before ceasing entirely, gloved fingers fiddling with each other out of the corner of the advisor’s eye. Yet, he thought little of it, only allowing a subtle twitch of the lips as he focused on the road.  

They had arrived, thankfully, in one piece.

Ignis wheeled the shopping cart and read off the list, his blond companion by his side as he pulled what he needed from the shelves, trying to work as quickly and efficiently as possible as he turned into the produce section.

“So, you do this for Noct all the time, right?”

“On Sundays, yes. My schedule is lightest then, so I can make sure His Highness eats during the week.”

The gunner nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he followed behind. “Yeah, I remember that time you had to shadow the king for a few days.”

“He ate nothing but cereal, not a cooked meal in sight. It was preposterous.” Grabbing for a head of lettuce, he turned to Prompto, gesturing to it. “You enjoy vegetables, I take?”

“Love ‘em!” The air was growing awkward, he could tell, the small talk becoming less meaningful as time wore on and Ignis thought for a moment that this mundane task should have been done alone - despite the fact that he was enjoying the company for what it was worth. He wasn’t the most exciting man. “So. You need help with anything?”

Placing a few choice vegetables in the cart, the advisor continued on his path. “No, thank you. I am perfectly fine with looking for what I need on my own.”

Perhaps he should not seem so clipped, the blond’s antsy demeanor wasn’t quite being helped by it and he was beginning to understand the constant guilt of not pleasing Prompto that Gladiolus had spoken at length about once. “You know, if there is anything special you want, you may grab it. I won’t mind.”

“Really?” Swaying momentarily, the man chuckled a bit nervously, always candid in voicing his concerns. “It won’t break your budget?”

“Hardly.”

“Well, there is a rack of Choco-Puffs an aisle over...”

“By all means.”

With a bright smile, Prompto nodded his way before jogging to his desired snack, giving the advisor a moment of peace to rework his usual shopping list into something healthier for his new charge. The closeness of another was certainly new, having always kept quite separate from Noctis while running daily errands; it had always given him time away from the prince’s dreariness.

Prompto was another entity entirely.

A light melody played from his jacket pocket and he pulled his cellular from its confines to see that it was Noctis himself calling, Ignis convinced that he could  _feel_  he was being thought about and he took a moment to bask in a well earned victory. The call was certainly about a missing pre-order that had left the nearby game shop earlier in the morning. Answering the call, there was a vast amount of giddiness he felt from the words yelled into his ear.

“Good afternoon, Noctis.”

_“Where is it?”_

Lips curled upward, the chamberlain’s free hand taking a package of baby carrots from their resting place. “Where is...?”

_“Assassin’s Creed: Origins.”_

“Ah, I picked it up for Prompto.”

 _“Why? That was my copy!”_ Noctis was clearly frazzled, his voice high in volume and his words laced with distaste; it was the only indication that Ignis needed to know that he was grating the prince’s nerves.

“Seeing as you both switched places, I thought it was rather good to ensure he gets what rightfully belongs to him.”

_“I want it back.”_

“I suppose you could come and pick it up.” He feigned a sigh, attempting to convey a bit of weariness. “Shame, though, he’s enjoying it immensely.”

The silence on the other line wore on and Noctis must have been truly thinking about his best friend’s desires, as a defeated sigh soon followed. There was no time for the other man to respond, however, as the sound of Prompto’s yelp followed by a crash and the shattering of glass filled the quiet air of the marketplace - the advisor taking hold of his cart and quickly making his way to the source of the commotion. “I will have to call you back.”

Call ended and heel clad feet racing toward a nearby aisle, Ignis had stopped in his tracks once he found a freckled blond with a guilty look upon his face and a catastrophic wasteland surrounding him. He had expected a fall, perhaps, an accidental slip of hand that could be explained to the market owner with the greatest of apologies.

This, however...

Ignis reached up to cover his eyes with the palm of his hand as a few employees moved in for clean-up.

“Oh, Prompto.”


	3. Sticky Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's little accident is followed by his own brooding, but Ignis knows a thing or two about lightening up the mood. The end of Day One is approaching, only six more to go. 
> 
> Warning: Sleepy Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for my lateness in uploading this chapter! I was going to post it much earlier this week, but the Christmas season is upon us and I have been very busy as of late. I will try to post the next installment a bit more quickly!
> 
> Also, just a quick note about ages. I feel Prompto and Noctis are in the eighteen range and Ignis and Gladiolus follow with twenty and twenty-one. Just to clear up any confusion!

_"I'm just the boy inside the man,_

_not exactly who you think I am._

_Trying to trace my steps back here again,_

_So many times."_

_\- Be Somebody, Thousand Foot Krutch_

 

Ignis was so different than he’d imagined.

Not that he’d imagined often, but there were times when the advisor had crossed his mind, especially after he and Noctis had made their bet.

They’d spent only a fraction of the morning playing video games, the rest of the day having been dedicated to moving a few things from Prompto’s home and into the apartment before Ignis could be informed - Noctis mentioning something along the lines of how the advisor couldn’t refuse the bet if they’d already made arrangements.

Prompto didn’t bother to mention the flaw in his logic; he’d been having way too good a time thinking about just how the week was going to play out, if Noct’s obligations were really all that bad or if he was just being a brat about things, and even if seeing Ignis everyday was going to be a dream or a nightmare. He wasn’t too sure, but he was excited about it nonetheless, not to mention the fact that Gladiolus had found it hilarious and happily volunteered to drive them to and from their destinations that day. 

And once afternoon had faded into night, he found that he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think of anything but calming his nerves at the thought of being completely alone with Ignis - his cool demeanor would do nothing for his fluttering, hummingbird heart. It was strange to think so intensely on the subject now, but all fun and games aside, he hoped that he and the advisor would become friends by the end of it all. 

Ignis intimidated him more than most and throughout the night, he was lucky to even get and hour or two of shut eye, completely awake by the time the sun rose with no hope of slumbering before the man’s arrival. 

So, when he had stepped through the door, blaming his lack of sleep on Noctis’ absence was the simplest thing. 

It had worked, but what he hoped would bloom into friendly conversation was stoic professionalism, and Prompto would surely perish before admitting to anyone that it had made him a little sad. 

Thinking back on later events, however, he knew he’d gotten  _somewhere_.

Ignis was a nice guy behind the frigid man, playing games with him, letting him come along on his shopping trip; there was something amazing about doing small chores together with someone by his side. 

But he’d  _screwed it all up_. 

“Prompto, it really isn’t as bad as you believe it to be.”

He was a complete and utter  _disaster_!

“The whole shelf fell-- one hundred and twenty jars of honey! And you had to  _pay_  for it!”

Prompto threw himself against the car door heavily, his cheek pressing to the cool glass of the window as he looked to the city streets of Insomnia - the hustle and bustle having died down as the afternoon began settling into evening, a calm that did not quite reach his tattered heart. And he swore to himself that he wasn’t being overly dramatic, because really, what guy walks into a supermarket and knocks over an entire display?

“I assure you, paying for it was the least of my worries. You needn’t fret.”

Of course, fretting over payment wasn’t exactly what was on the blond’s mind, though it should have been. His embarrassment was on the forefront, the horror of realizing too late that climbing the shelves was a horrible idea, jars taking a nosedive onto the white tiles of the grocery store - one by one, painting it a golden hue, taunting with each ear-splitting crash. 

That was hardly the worst part, because Ignis had rounded the corner and he glanced up to find the advisor covering his face, probably in frustration and regretting he’d taken him shopping in the first place. 

Not to mention how polite the older man had been about it, beckoning him over and standing between him and an angry shop owner - Ignis’ apologies and the sight of him pulling out a checkbook with a promise to pay having quieted the frightening little man. 

And all Prompto could do was hide behind the chamberlain, guilty as charged. 

The blond crossed his arms over his chest, peeking at Ignis as subtly as he could, the bespectacled man’s eyes on the road as they came to a stop light. 

“I just...wanted the one with the honeycomb in it.”

There was a light sigh as the other shifted in his seat, looking to him momentarily, as there was much more to pay attention to. “If it was too high for you, you could have asked me and I would have grabbed it for you.” Gloved fingers tapped on the wheel, his tone matter-of-fact and intimidating in its monotonous speech.

“Are you making fun of the vertically challenged?” It was supposed to come off as a joke, but it was somehow mirthless - awkward - and Prompto felt that it wasn’t worth it. If Ignis thought anything of it, he made no comment. 

“No, but I truly believe that you should set your guilt aside.”

“My guilt was honey all over the floor.”

“Ah, but one still made it out alive and we have purchased it.”

They had, and Prompto wanted that fact to make him feel better, make him feel like he wasn’t a trouble making klutz that had cost Ignis-- _Six dollars times one hundred and twenty jars...ugh._

He sighed, feeling as though the price was far more than he was worth, the silence that hung between them confirming the thought. Resting his elbow on the center console, he pressed his face into a curled fist, a slight pout on his plush lips as he stewed in his upset; he didn’t even feel like listening to music despite the fact that Ignis’ taste in genres were both uplifting and super cute.

Prompto hadn’t even noticed when the car started rolling again or that the man was taking a bit of a long route home, in actuality, he’d blocked out most of his surroundings until he heard the other’s voice once more. 

“You could say that it was simply a _sticky situation_.”

“Don’t remind--”

_Oh._

There was something about the way the advisor had said it, casually in conversation, something about the way he’d taken in his bottom lip - as though he were attempting to keep himself from smiling and Prompto stared for a bit too long, mesmerized by such a ridiculous quirk. 

_Ignis made a joke._

He was trying to get him to laugh, and somehow, that was even funnier than the pun itself; it warmed him the slightest bit, even more so than the countless bags of chocobo shaped snacks Noctis had tossed into his hands every time he was sad. It set is heart on fire knowing that Ignis, in his own gentle notion, was comforting in more ways than just clean cut logic. 

It wasn’t even awkward when he turned to the advisor, his laughter far too late and quiet at first before it erupted into a mess of tear-jerking, pitched chuckles.

The smile the man had given him then was one he couldn’t quite explain, but it was brief and soft, yet still - the crinkle of his eyes spoke volumes of its authenticity. Prompto could do nothing but return the gesture, even if the older advisor was paying too much heed to driving to notice. 

Without a second thought, he turned the music on, grinding electric guitar riffs filling the air at a reasonable volume - the sound fitting to the new car smell that consisted of leather and expensive cologne. Ignis wasn’t having anything halfway it seemed, his hand moving to simply turn the dial to a volume so high, the gunner could feel the vibration in his seat. The action lifted his spirits and before he knew it, each tap of fingertips to the steering wheel that matched the beat, each wayward glance and smile - only managed to light up his cheeks like never before. 

And once they had arrived at the apartment, engine turned off and a moment of contemplation following, the blond found solace in a few quiet - and perhaps joking - words.

“I will keep your secret if you keep mine.”

Prompto felt special.

* * *

“I can help! Do you need me to do anything?”

Ignis gave him a pointed look over the kitchen counter, uncovered hands carefully washing the vegetables in front of him before moving them to the cutting board that he so neatly arranged alongside numerous utensils he would need over the course of preparing dinner, Prompto smiling bashfully at the expression. Sitting on one of the stools would be safer, he decided, watching the advisor work and figuring he would be turned down anyway. 

“I believe I have had enough help for today, thank you. You’ve brought in quite a few bags, so I believe you deserve the rest.”

Read:  _‘I really don’t want you to knock down more shit.’_

Prompto heard him loud and clear and he had no choice but to agree, thankful just to be able to watch and enjoy Ignis’ home cooked meals for an entire week. It wasn’t a bad deal and part of him was wondering how Noctis was faring, because as far as he knew - and he knew the prince very well - he could barely manage to make a Cup Noodle. 

He wished to be able to brag, tell his best friend about the amazing things he had learned about Ignis despite it only being the first day; how great he was at video games on the first try, his surprising and incredible music tastes, how kind he was even though Prompto had royally fucked up. And his quirks weren’t too shabby either, he was a lot more expressive than he seemed to be at first, how meticulous he was with something as normal as grocery shopping or the way his lips twitch upward to one side when he’s working...

He sounded like he had a teenage crush and that wasn’t an easy thought to set aside. 

“Is something the matter, Prompto?”

“Huh?” A bit startled at the sudden question, the blond sat up straighter in his seat. “No, no! Why?”

“You were staring, which is quite alright, but you looked rather distracted. I was simply wondering if something was ailing you.”

Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, the gunner could feel his nerves on edge, face surely as red as the hands that were caught in the act. Piercing green eyes were steady upon his visage, neither disinterested or prying in their search, though they always seemed to know more than anyone would expect. The hand holding the kitchen knife had stilled for a moment and Prompto couldn’t decide if the man’s undivided attention was a good or a bad thing. “I was just thinking about Noct - how he’s doing and all!”

Th chopping of vegetables resumed and he felt relieved that the other’s priorities had shifted, the sound of sizzling and the smell of something positively delicious following, easing his mind. “Are you? You could always call him and find out, you know.”

“I guess I could, but maybe I should let him regret this whole thing, don’tcha think?”

The man hummed in response, taking a second to add a pinch of spice to the dish before him, lowering the heat of the stove as he turned to Prompto with a raised brow - hand on a cocked hip. 

_Ain’t that a sight._

“Now  _that_  is a fine idea.”

“Gotta make the guy miss me, you know?” With a small chuckle and a shrug, he tore his gaze from the man’s form, blaming it on his inability to focus on one thing for too long. 

“And his video game, no doubt.” Prompto nodded, lips curled into a smile as he watched Ignis pull plates from one of the cabinets above him, reaching for a utensil to spoon dinner onto them - perfectly portioned so that there was only enough for two. It made the blond realize just how practiced Ignis was with making all of the prince’s meals, how he must have to join him each and every time so he had the minutes to wash dishes afterwards and prepare for the next day. And as a plate was set before him, he wondered if the advisor could have spent the week resting instead of catering to his every favor. 

A stool was pulled out beside him and he felt their elbows touch as Ignis took his seat, a wild blush dusting his cheeks, as he must have had another stupid and far away look on his face then as well. The advisor didn’t seem to mind, though, looking to him expectantly - as he always did when he wanted an opinion on his cooking. 

Picking up his fork, he looked down to a mouth-watering stir fry, which he took not a moment longer to try. “Aw,  _dude_.” He spoke with his mouth full, but he didn’t care, even when Ignis had given him a disproving look and a snort. “This is awesome!”

Pleased with his response, the chamberlain turned to his own meal, intent on finishing without conversation - Prompto guessed - but the sound of eating in silence had always unnerved him. “Hey, Iggy? Are you even okay with this?”

Ignis was all elegance when he dined, ungloved hands reaching for a folded hand cloth and dabbing it over his lips three times before he bothered speaking, Prompto lingering on the very action. “I assume you are speaking of the bet. I cannot say shirking my duties thrills me in the slightest, but it is what His Highness wishes and that, I cannot deny.”

The blond wanted to ignore the weight on his chest, the sudden disappointment he felt because Ignis truly did not wish to be there, at least - he didn’t want to have to take care of  _Prompto_. It was easy to swallow back and forget about, for the moment. “He’s doing it to prove a point, you know.”

“I am aware, Prompto.” Ignis ate slowly, paying attention to both his food and the blond in an oddly thoughtful way, but maybe everything the man did was thoughtful - careful and calculated. 

“Don’t you get angry? You know, when he acts like a brat?” It was genuine curiosity and though it had only been a day, he could not see why Noctis couldn’t be more grateful. Prompto himself had never spent so much time in a day with one other person in his life besides the prince, and it occurred to him that sometimes his best friend was allowed time like this with Ignis _and_ Gladio often.

“I cannot get angry. Noctis, in a sense, is still just a boy who will one day become king; it is my job to guide him to that point.” There was a long pause and Prompto prepared for more, knowing Ignis’ responses to never be short. “And when the time comes and he is ready, he will rule, but for now - he is not and I must endure any and all of his behaviors, ‘bratty’ or otherwise.”

A quiet snicker escaped his lips and Prompto took another bite of his food, attempting to be more polite this time and not going on with his mouth open. “You do kinda sound like a parent sometimes.”

“It’s purely habit, I suppose.” The advisor sniffed, turning to look Prompto in the eyes, which the younger man so readily avoided. “Gladio tells me I shouldn’t hover so much, but Noctis is terribly lazy if I fail to. At any rate, this routine has been just that since we were children, a routine.”

“Don’t you ever want to stop being his advisor and be his friend instead?”

Prompto must have said something that struck a chord, because Ignis’ brows furrowed then, and he turned away - looking a bit bewildered by the question. It nearly made the gunner want to reach up and smooth the wrinkle of his forehead with his thumb, release him of the nearly permanent frown he wore, though a smile sometimes showed through. Prompto’s inherent need to simply care was kicking in as it always did, along with the winding, anxious nerves within him giving him a fright at the idea that he may have said something wrong.

Ignis had quickly quashed that fear. 

“You are incredibly insightful when you wish to be.” A candid response, as it always would be, but fruitless nonetheless and he expected not to get an answer to that question.

“I think that’s what Noct wants, too, Iggy.” Paying more attention to his meal, the blond let the subject rest, though not without one final opinion. “You’re a great advisor.”

He caught sight of Ignis smiling then, soft and barely noticeable, to no one and nothing in particular.

“Thank you, Prompto.”

* * *

Dinner had come and gone quickly after that and Prompto was allowed to help wash and dry the dishes after much insistence on his end, winning only after he’d jokingly  _commanded_  Ignis let him. They worked in sync for the while and, up close, he was finally able to fully admire the other’s hands - thin fingers, spindly veins, all moving meticulously toward the same goal - and he couldn’t deny how much he liked them. The gunner didn’t linger on the fact, only did his own job and watched a bit too intensely as leather was carefully slipped back on, quietly admonished for an impolite yawn as he did so. 

And it was nearly clockwork, how he had moved to grab the notebook and pocket pen he placed upon the counter earlier that morning, that incredibly quick hand scribbling words Prompto couldn’t discern from his spot a step away - whether because of the fluid script or his lack of decent eyesight, he did not know. And like clockwork, the man quickly picked up on his curiosity, closing the booklet with a snap. “I noted that you seemed to favor that dish, just in case I decide to prepare it for you in the future.”

Prompto didn’t think he’d ever heard something so touching in his entire life.

With a watery smile, the blond tugged mindlessly at his wristbands, both incredibly tired and still eager to spend more time with Ignis. 

“I had better take my leave. We have got quite a busy day tomorrow; I will be coming to wake you at 6 A.M.”

His mood immediately tanked at the other’s words, the digital clock mounted on the prince’s entertainment system signaling only half-passed seven; he was exhausted, that much was true, but he was sure his sleep would be fitful despite that - his prior anxiousness had faded tremendously. And though part of him had wished to prove himself more mature than his best friend and future king, he could not help his look of disappointment at the thought of the advisor leaving. At least, not for another couple of hours. 

Hands clapping together, thumbs fumbling against each other, he gave Ignis his best set of puppy dog eyes - the ones Gladio says would take down the Astrals themselves. “Can we just watch a movie really quick? It’s the newest  _Scourge Wars: Revenge of the Six_!”

_Here it comes, no one can resist--_

“I’m terribly sorry, Prompto, but it simply cannot be done. Perhaps, if time permits, we can watch it another day.”

_Hardcore rejected._

Prompto barely had time to lament, the chime of keys clinking as the other man headed for the door, the younger scrambling to intercept Ignis, a questioning expression upon his visage. And he was clearly in his way, he knew, his whole body blocking the entrance. Part of him also knew he was just being a nuisance and that the advisor would be glad to get home, but he wasn’t ready - not yet.

It was only a week, he could stand to be selfish. 

“Just one movie, Iggy? Please?”

The elder sighed. “Staying up late will make it harder for you to wake come morning."

“I promise I’ll be awake before you even get here tomorrow!”

Prompto hoped his face was convincing enough, because he was one hundred percent sure he’d be unable to keep that promise, tired as he truly was - even  _he_  isn’t that much of a morning person. That early in the A.M. was not remotely normal for a man of only eighteen years, not at all. However, it seemed to give thought to the chamberlain, as he began to mull over his words and Prompto could only think he was trying to bring forward several reasons to refuse.

The blond had to hold back a yawn as well, just in case it was to be used against him - he couldn’t allow his own exhaustion to ruin his chances.

“Very well.  _One_  movie. If we begin now, I am sure we will be able to get at least seven hours of sleep, which is acceptable for tonight. I shall get the popcorn ready.”

If he wasn’t so busy letting out a cry of victory, Prompto would have pointed out that he and Noctis would stay up way later than would be allowed after he left per usual, but he wisely kept that fact to himself. Setting out to the living room, he gave his body a stretch, wanting to stay as awake as possible as he came across the vast shelf of DVDs his friend kept - all arranged in alphabetical order, courtesy of his advisor. It was easy to spot a movie the man had yet to find a place for, Noctis having tossed them all in a pile on the floor beside the coffee table. 

He picked up the shrink wrapped copy of  _Revenge of the Six_ , blinking tiredly when the letters began swimming just a bit, but he dealt with it - pulling the disk from its box and replacing the video game inside the Playstation 4 with the movie. A lazy hand grabbed the controller as he threw himself onto the sofa with a sigh. And it felt awfully comfortable, he would think, but didn’t dwell on it - sleepily skipping through previews until he reached the title screen, letting his mind wander to his own content feelings despite the circumstances. 

He hadn’t even realized that he’d fallen asleep until his name was called.

“Prompto?”

His eyes fluttered only for a moment, long enough to hear the man’s voice and feel a gentle hand ushering him up and off of the couch, light touch on his back leading him to Noctis’ bedroom. 

“Off to bed, then.”

The blond was sure he’d went back under the moment his head hit the pillow, tucked in with the heavy, weighted blanket Cor had given him for his unending anxiety - the advisor muttering something about how he had  _“even sprinkled cayenne onto the popcorn.”_

Perhaps he would regret it in the morning.

 

 


	4. Two Part Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You would have had to learn to dance eventually, and since we are in the midst of a bet, it is as good a time as ever.”
> 
> “Still, this isn’t what you want to be doing. I’m really sorry, you know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> First of all, I am really sorry that this chapter took so long to upload, but I accepted Christmas Requests on Tumblr and I ended up posting about five full length fictions along with my LibNyx Week submission. I should be getting back on track now that it is over, so expect faster updates!
> 
> Here is the beginning of Day Two!

_"You didn't have to say my name,_

_Ignite my circuits,_

_Start a flame,_

_But you did._ _"_

_\- Honeybee, Steam Powered Giraffe_

_Today, we will be practicing refinement._

_Prompto, have you ever been to your primary care doctor? Your records are non-existent._

_Never fear, I have made you an appointment._

_After our morning practice, you will be training with Gladio instead of Cor._

Four messages.

He had sent a mere four messages since he had awakened, not one having been returned, and as Ignis marched up the stairway to Noctis’ apartment, he looked to his watch to find that it was only seven o’clock in the morning. Of course, he supposed that he should not have counted on a promise of early rising and slept in; the responsibility clearly falling to the advisor himself. It was a bit of a shame, but then again, he had to remember that Prompto had shown himself a far different person than the prince in most respects and he had to admire his refreshing demeanor, his disposition so incredibly bright that he couldn’t quite understand why the man was overshadowed by all around him.

Despite the fact that he’d certainly spent more money than he intended to the day before, he could not help but admit to himself that he enjoyed the company, even when the blond had spoken so openly about what he thought of Ignis’ own situation; it made him a bit more introspective, and perhaps, a bit more fond of Prompto.

He was an earnest, kind, and appreciative young man - it was a new thought that the prince had chosen a fine person to be his friend, to make even the coldest of hearts believe they could open up in such a way.

It was not to be today, however.

There was much to be done and since the true heir to the crown was playing commoner, Prompto was to take the lead in his stead and it was of the utmost importance that he not dismiss professionalism.

Reaching into his pocket, Ignis procured the apartment key neatly attached to his own set and made to open the door, the residence a silent and desolate land he then scoured - placing his belongings onto the counter as he always had before stepping into the kitchen and over to the coffeemaker. It was used only by himself, Noctis not quite being a fan of the bitter drink, scoffing haughtily at the very sight of it during the days he rose particularly early. The chamberlain, on the other hand, needed a touch of caffeine to properly survive and make it through the most stressful of days.

Truly, just a _touch_ would do.

It didn’t take long to find his blend, ignoring the bowl of popcorn he clear wrapped on the counter, remembering that younger men had undesirable tastes and Prompto would probably want the treat for later - awful as it was. The kitchen was seemingly as much his own as it was the prince’s, though the latter made use of it less, many of the pots and pans untouched by all but the advisor and the very thought made his lips curl upward.

The time for trivial thought had since ended, however - and soon, the comforting smell of a dark roast filled the air as a sigh escaped him, giving him the strength to uphold his duties. It was then that he decided it was the appropriate time to check on the blond, surely fast asleep in bed, comforted in his own innocent dreamland.

His steps down the hall were timed, counted within his mind, the simple method doing wonders for his clarity as he opened the door to the bedroom - light hardly a sliver across the expanse of his charge’s bed, though enough to illuminate the bundle atop it. Ignis moved to the nearest switch, turning on the lights in the hopes that Prompto would awaken, but his efforts were for naught - a stir accompanied by a gravely hum his only response.

It seemed he would have to use more drastic measures.

And by drastic, he simply meant moving to the edge of the mattress, gently shaking the man’s shoulders as he attempted to rouse him from slumber; had he waited any longer to check on him, it would have set their schedule back, but he did not wish to stress himself so early. Part of him wanted to set Noctis’ alarm clock as he did on days when the prince was particularly attached to the comforts of his fort of sheets, but somehow, he felt the blond would respond to a more tender method.

Hand still carefully patting the other’s arm, he looked to a muss of golden locks, freckles distracting from a drooling mouth as he found himself staring fondly.

_Still such a child._

“Prompto?” Quietly he cooed, fingers wrapping around the edge of the weighted blanket, just in case he was to bring the chill of the morning air to wake the gunner. However, the pulling of covers wasn’t quite needed, as his temporary charge stirred - lashes fluttering open blearily, tears gathering at their corners. Blue eyes gazed upward toward the advisor curiously, as though still in a daze, voice slurred and dreamlike.

“Are you an angel?”

“I am Ignis.” He responded thus, unsure if he should feel amused or flattered, but he supposed it was simply a tired man’s imagination that caused him to speak those words.

“Close enough.” The phrase brought a flush to the chamberlain’s cheeks and he soon took a step back, truly observing his companion’s stretching limbs, the way he smacked his mouth together several times before rolling over. Ignis could only shake his head, arms crossing over his chest as he cocked a hip, allowing himself a mirthful smile.

“I highly doubt you would think me an angel after we finish today’s _‘princely duties.’_ ”

His reply seemed to catch the blond’s attention, body stiffening beneath the sheets, Ignis able to tell that he was no longer relaxed in partial slumber. And before he could say anything more, Prompto sat up wildly in bed, looking over to him as though he’d been caught in the act, eyes wide and face a daring scarlet; whatever the act may have been, the younger man was certainly feeling the embarrassment of it.

“Iggy! What are you doing here?”

With a clearing of the throat, heeled leather shoes clicked forward as he began speaking in a scolding, matter-of-fact tone. “You were supposed to be awake before I arrived, I believe? The real questions is, why are _you_ not?” There was an undeniable look of shame upon the other’s face, and he decidedly avoided admonishing Prompto too harshly, finding that he held guilt for his actions - much unlike Noctis, whom could care less.

“I’m sorry, Iggy. I fell asleep before I could even-- aw, man!” Scrambling from his position upon the bed, he smacked a hand to his forehead, groaning. “I totally missed our movie!”

“Not to worry.” Always quick to reply, hands adjusted the gloves wrapped around them, a debonair air surrounding the chamberlain. “If it is any consolation, we hadn’t the chance to start it anyhow.”

“Oh.” Prompto looked a tad upset at the fact, but he said nothing more, piling the blankets in a fashion similar to that of the cave he had hibernated within - moving to walk over to his overnight bag and pull out a fresh outfit, fingers rubbing at his tired eyes. Ignis took that as his cue to leave him to showering and changing, but not without first berating himself for his inability to not feel some semblance of guilt when faced with the blond’s melancholy visage.

“The faster you dress, the faster we can get our tasks for the day finished. Perhaps then we can try our hand at watching it once more.”

“Really? I’ll be out before you can say Moogle Munchies, then!” There was a grin shot his way as he shook his head, the advisor stepping out of the room and shutting the door before returning to the kitchen. Breakfast would have to be simple, as they were already behind, but luckily he had thought to buy some fruit when they took that trip to the supermarket and was able to lay out several options.

The chamberlain’s adept hands traveled to the cabinet in order to obtain his favored take-away tumbler, preparing a cup of coffee for himself, nursing it as he leant against the counter. An aroma well enjoyed, he could only think, quiet sips hardly breaking the silence as he looked to his watch every few moments, the dark roast calming his nerves a considerable amount.

Clattering footsteps were his only interruption as they rushed through the hall, face full of freckles smiling his way as Prompto barged into the kitchen, hair somewhat damp but still styled the way he liked it nowadays. The blond gestured proudly to himself, dressed in his usual punkish garb, accompanied by several chains and cuffs that never left his wrist; Ignis had nearly missed the pair of spectacles upon his nose, crimson in color and catching his attention as he spoke. “All dressed!”

“You are...wearing your corrective lenses.” He noted, and rather dumbly at that, but he hadn’t the time to think much of how silly it sounded to point out the obvious; it was simply a surprise to see Prompto wearing them so openly after the many times he’d heard him speak ill of their style. Although, he had to admit that they suited him rather well, even the vibrance of color wasn’t too much of a contrast upon his pale cheeks.

Ignis favored their presence.

“Oh, yeah.” Reaching up, he watched the other fiddle with them self-consciously. “I slept with my contacts and my eyes hurt too bad to shove in another pair.”

“They suit you.”

“Thanks.” Blue eyes averted their gaze behind the frames, landing on the wrapped bowl on the counter, subject swiftly changing as he reached for it and pulled from the dish its cover. “What’s this?”

“Popcorn from last night, long since stale. I wrapped it up for you, as His Highness enjoys it days old; I figured you wouldn’t be much different in taste.”

The less than consumable snack in his opinion was then picked up and cradled by slender arms, several popped kernels scooped up by a hand bordered with ebony glove and shoved into the blond’s mouth, a pleased hum resonating as he chewed.

The lack of crunch made Ignis cringe.

“Dude, who do you think taught Noct about this delicacy? If it weren’t for me, he’d throw away the rest of the movie theatre popcorn every time we take a trip to the cinema!” Another few bites and Prompto sighed. “You even put cayenne in it - _perfect_ breakfast.”

Ignis didn’t bother protesting, as from experience, he knew the repercussions of denying any of his younger companions snack food. “Yes, well, I suppose it will be fine for the morning - so long as you take a healthier choice with you for the ride.”

He was met with exaggerated munching and a chipper _‘you got it, Iggy!,’_ the wrap being placed atop the bowl once more, hands reaching for an apple before the blond trotted toward the door - far too jolly for one about to undergo training in two opposing trials. Ignis thought him oddly excitable, but merely chalked it up to Prompto’s eagerness to win the bet against Noctis and it was certainly the attitude to have, he could argue. And, following behind, he ended all thought there - taking his keys from the counter to head out once more.

“Oh! My phone-- gimme a sec!” A rush of blond locks scurried past him and into the living room with a bashful grin, only to rummage through the piles of fleece blankets and empty DVD cases - the advisor thinking it humorous that he hadn’t seen Prompto’s forgetfulness coming.

Of course he hadn’t read the messages.

However, he was all too keen on understanding that the gunner must have just then, the younger man stepping back over to him at a much slower pace with his cellular in hand and a look of nervousness about him. “Iggy…”

“Yes, Prompto?” The weariness in the man’s voice unsettled him, but he only allowed himself to think of the time. “We must leave now, lest we become even later than we already are.”

“B-But! This says _doctor’s_ appointment! I don’t need a doctor, I swear, I am so healthy-- I eat vegetables! And, and _Gladio_ instead of Cor? ...What’s refinement?”

Opening the front door at the myriad of questions, he beckoned his worrisome charge over, an expression that begged no nonsense looking the other’s way.

“I shall explain everything on the way to the Citadel.”

* * *

“So, you’re going to torture me by teaching me how to dance, then I have to get noogied by the big guy and to top it all off - you’re making me go to the doctor? _The source of all evil?_ ”

A swift hand made to unbuckle his own seatbelt, finding Prompto’s overly dramatic response to be rather endearing compared to the usual monotonous drawl he received and in turn, it gave him the means to be a bit more light-hearted. “Yes, you seem to have the gist of it. Although, you will not be seeing your primary care doctor until tomorrow, therefore, you will live to see another day.”

“Then, you agree - you think she’ll kill me too!”

“Not quite.” Stepping out of the vehicle, he handed his keys to the glaive in waiting, sharing a nod with him before walking over to the passenger’s side - curious to know why Prompto hadn’t emerged. And opening the blond’s door himself, he only found the man fiddling to get his own safety belt off, having been forced to wear one - his habit of going without not tolerated by Ignis.

Smiling sheepishly, Prompto hopped out of the car with a quiet _‘my bad’_ and waited patiently for the advisor upon the sidewalk, Ignis needing only to gather a notebook before they made their way into the Citadel; the advisor had nearly forgotten what it was like to step within the double doors with another in tow, Noctis having taken to sleeping in several years ago, leaving him to walk the halls of so large and bustling a palace alone. Even the slightest bit of company seemed to lift his spirits in a way Ignis couldn’t quite explain and he was beginning to truly see how easily one could become entranced by Prompto’s very presence.

The blond bounced with each step, arms up and hands clasped behind his head, looking forward as the man was footfalls ahead of him - and there was a light hum in the air, a thrum of life he thought for a moment that he could get used to, bright and exuberant. Ignis had taken notice of his pitch, a gravely alto that reverberated throughout his entire being, oddly talented in song - a fact that had escaped him despite the years he’d known Prompto.

The chamberlain found himself strangely captivated by the melody as they walked, eyes focused on freckles dotting pale arms, so many that it would be impossible to count, running trails from his biceps and the back of his neck to the man’s cheeks. And he found that he was suddenly staring into too blue eyes behind such wildly colored frames, the realization that he was being spoken to making him stop at the nearest intersection, three paths before him with no end in sight.

Ignis took a moment to adjust his collar. “What was that, Prompto?”

“Spacing out there?” The gunner dropped his arms. “I was just askin’ where we’re supposed to go? You didn’t exactly tell me.”

The advisor could only stare dumbly for the moment before taking a look at his surroundings, finding that they’d come to the main corridor. “Let us take a left here. We should arrive at our destination shortly.”

“Okay.”

Ignis didn’t allow himself the time to say much more, turning quickly - hearing the blond’s fast footsteps speed up behind him as he attempted to quell the awkward flurry of emotion that trickled its way through his chest, a strange ache that made him think momentarily of Noctis, for it was similar in feeling to the many butterfly inspiring experiences he’d shared with the prince.

However, so very different the feelings were that tethered themselves to him.

Ignis pulled his phone from his pocket, looking to the lock screen, empty of notifications with a solemn expression. How the blond’s words just the day before had plagued him, suddenly filling an organized mind with distracting memories from the past, his close friendship with Noctis seeming so far away. He had always had a sense of duty to his future king, but since what instance in time had he erased their friendship?

The fresh kindredness he now shared with Prompto gave help in healing, he had to admit, and perhaps he was imparting an unexpected wisdom upon him.

They soon reached a pair of large, elaborate double doors, his musings having ended instantaneously as he made to speak. “Here we are.”

“The dance hall…”

“You are the prince this week. And it is imperative that you learn the art of dance either way. As a part of His Highness’ entourage, you are required to enjoy a number or two with eligible daughters of the Council during special events.”

“A-Ah.”

With a nod, the chamberlain opened the doors easily despite how heavy they truly were, the very room appearing desolate and melancholy in image when empty - a perfect place to practice a craft beneath the quiet undertone. Ignis stepped over to the stereo he’d called to have set up the night before, cassette tape loaded in the hours prior with the appropriate tunes; it was a rather medieval technology, but it was efficient all the same.

Prompto seemed smaller in the doorway, his curious eyes peeking into the vast room with just a spark of interest before tentatively shuffling to Ignis’ side and shoving his hands into his pockets. “So, I’ll have to go to these galas eventually and dance in a suit - proper and all that?” A wrinkle of the nose indicated his distaste, but he failed to express it in any other form as he looked to the stereo. “Gods, that’s so _old._ ”

Adept fingers made way over the ancient device, pressing play, the very first melody filling the room with soft, ethereal song. “You would be correct. In fact, we will be attending one together this Friday evening. And it is what I would call _vintage_.”

“Wait. _This_ Friday? Nobody told me this!” There was a panicked look upon the gunner’s face, but the elder of the two didn’t allow that to deter him from perfect teeth wearing on a bottom lip. “Wait, we’ll be going together?”

However hopeful the lilt in Prompto’s voice, and despite the fact that Ignis wished to set such a thought aside, there was the lightest of tugs upon his very heartstrings - noticeable enough for him to wonder about the excitement he felt within him as the man moved to stand before him. “We are all to attend, of course. Even His Highness cannot get out of this one.”

“Oh. Gotcha.” There was a passing thought that the other seemed disappointed in a way that implied that he wanted to disclude Noctis entirely, and Ignis was wise enough to know that anything quite like that would be true, but chalked it up to Prompto’s usual state of loneliness. Sooner rather than later, though, that look of sadness had vanished - seemingly replaced by determination. “So, how do we do this?”

Reaching up to adjust his spectacles, Ignis hadn’t skipped a beat, the music flooding the empty dance hall placed the time in his step as he moved forward, startling the blond by extending his arms - offering gloved hands to the younger man, whom of which looked at them for a long, painful moment before taking them in his own. A thumb absentmindedly brushed the back of freckled flesh as he led one to his shoulder, the grasp nearly ghostly while the other clung to his fingers. “We shall begin with a basic waltz; every good man bearing ties to the future king should be well versed. It is in three-four time, so it will not be too difficult.”

“Three-four time - right!” Prompto’s hand upon him traveled upward slightly, fingers clipping at his collar, though he strove to ignore the way his own legs brought him even closer - opting instead to place his free hand along the small of the man’s back, readying himself to give instructions.

“We will take it slow, for now.” The blond was a man of weak nerves, so flustered by the close proximity that the moment he looked up and into emerald eyes, his own azure hues had averted their gaze - focusing on the small silver pin upon Ignis’ lapel. If the chamberlain wasn’t careful, he truly believed he would have over thought the blush upon pale cheeks, the fingers tightening their hold around his own; if anything, of course, the advisor was nothing _but_ careful - hyper aware of his own actions always. And taking a deep breath, he only decided to steady his feet, nodding to the music as he usually did when first teaching Noctis to dance. “Simply follow my footsteps and mirror my movements.”

The tune was slow enough to guide Prompto into the steps, his feet not quite as swift as the true prince’s, Noctis able to pick moves up rather quickly despite his dislike of anything to do with matters of the crown. The blond, however, seemed to have two left feet - his steps shaky as he tried his best to follow behind Ignis’ perfected form. It was for much of nothing, he could only think - and though the chamberlain gave his best effort to guide the other in his lead, the gunner had stepped onto his polished shoe, withdrawing immediately.

“I’m sorry!” It was with whispered exclamation that the man attempted to pull away, only for Ignis to forge his grasp anew around his waist, an air of professionalism about him still as he kept the blond close.

“It is quite alright. You are not exactly light on your feet, but a craft is never learned without there being a few mishaps.”

It took a brief moment of dance, but he received a succession of nods, those vibrant crystals still staring intently at anything but the advisor himself - his movements mechanical, but executed with a considerable amount of effort. By the looks of it, Ignis could see the man’s own inner frustration and how difficult it was for him to take, the need to impress having always been essential to his self confidence since he was a boy.

The realization that he knew Prompto better than he thought he did caught him off guard.

Another step upon his foot and his anxious partner ceased his movements completely, pulling his hands away and wrapping them around himself for good, appearing undeniably weary. And Ignis himself couldn’t quite shake the desire to reach out for him once more; but he held back, by all means, gracefully letting his hands fall as Prompto spoke. “This isn’t working.”

Stifled he felt, suddenly chilled from their parting, though he hadn’t wished to entertain as to why - instead pressing his hands to his blazer, brushing from collar to hem in one continuous motion, expression kind as he attempted to quell any disappointment.

“Is something the matter? Mistakes happen, Prompto, it is quite alright.”

“But...I’m wasting your time, aren’t I?” The blond released a heavy sigh and if Ignis were honest, he would say that the blond seemed a different person, melancholy hues hidden behind walls - usual sunny smile gone from his plush lips.

“Pardon?”

“I’m wasting it, because Noct already knows how to dance. This is just a bunch of extra work for you that I know you didn’t want.”

“You would have had to learn to dance eventually, and since we are in the midst of a bet, it is as good a time as ever.”

“Still, this isn’t what you want to be doing. I’m really sorry, you know?” His voice had raised, if just barely, and after the very second - he shrunk back just as quickly. “You’d rather take care of him and I’m just getting in the way with this stupid bet.”

_Ah, I see._

Ignis had yet to truly mull over the events of the night before in such depth, how his words may have seemed hurtful toward his companion, spoken in such a way that seemed to be dismissing him entirely - his very existence being made a burden to those surrounding without ever truly meaning to. The advisor could not help but feel the slightest bit ashamed, having never made so many trivial mistakes in a mere two days’ time; and within a moment or two, he relaxed his shoulders, trying to appear calm despite his sudden inner turmoil - both situations foreign to a man whom was always in control.

“Oh? Oh, Prompto, I do hope you do not think you are the reason this bet is detrimental to my time. That will never be the case and my apologies if I have made you feel that such is so.”

“But it is, right? I mean, last night--”

“I did speak of shirking my responsibilities, but that hardly means that I dislike spending time with you; that would be rather untrue.” With a gentleness that could only come from Ignis himself, he managed to shorten the distance between them, placing a hand upon the man’s bare shoulder. “Despite the nature of this bet and how long it will be drawing on, there is no regret in my taking care of you this week. You and I, I think us friends.”

“Friends...yeah. Thanks, Iggy.” A smile he was sure wasn’t genuine appeared upon plush lips, only overshadowed by Prompto’s hand finding his own once more, the other suddenly grasping at his collar in a way that he couldn’t for a moment think too intimate. “Do you think we can try again?”

“Nothing would please me more.”

* * *

“Careful now. Very good.”

The hours had passed and they soon glided across the dancefloor with graceful steps, each swell of score and melody coexisting with timid dips and swift change of pace, Ignis careful to lead with all of the elegance a man of blue blood could emanate - crisp in word and alluring in form, pulling Prompto to and fro with ease, the blond having long since set aside his worry. Crystalline hues watched on with wonder as he caught onto even the most difficult of moves, perhaps not with exquisite execution, but his ardent desire to do well showed with shallow panache; there had even been a moment in which they were both truly enjoying themselves.

Over a short amount of time, they seemed to have scaled the length of the ballroom without much notice, or at least, Ignis himself had failed to notice. Admittedly, he had been far too enraptured by a determined gaze, by teeth that worried lips too roughly during a move that was just a bit precise; the advisor changed his train of thought only when Prompto had looked up, tossing his head back slightly in order to secure his spectacles against his face without removing his hands from Ignis’ person. He hadn’t even seen them begin to slip away from his nose, for what it was worth.

The way the blond looked at him then made the chamberlain strangely warm, but he did nothing to entertain any ideas, his body betraying him with shortness of breath as Prompto smiled his way - the two of them coming to a stop.

Had he always a choice freckle directly upon his bottom lip?

“It seems you’ve mastered quite a few steps.” His hand squeezed the other’s within it, only realizing the reflex when the gesture was returned; his mask refused to falter.

“Must have been your teaching. It wasn’t as hard as I thought.” Puffing his chest, Prompto took on an aloof stance, giving Ignis a playful wink in confidence. “I really got the moves now!”

“That you do.” Ignis easily agreed with a hum. “Shall we take a break?”

“Do we have to go over more fancy dances if we don’t?”

“Of course.”

The gunner made a slight face, pulling himself from the advisor’s grasp and there was a moment in which he believed it funny that he wanted to continue in just that fashion, slowly making their way across the floor with one another in arms.

“Let’s do a different type of dance!”

“A different type?”

Prompto looked his way curiously before such an expression became oddly gentle. “Don’t you know anything but ballroom?”

“Not...exactly.”

“Really?” A soft look became ever the more tender and he seemed to be chuckling to himself. “I thought you knew everything, Iggy.”

“Everything, hm?” Ears tinged crimson, the taller of the two reached up to adjust his frames upon the tip of his nose, clearing his throat as he received a challenging look. “Well, let us see. I can do…”

The music was an ill fit, but he made do, his feet marking time as he swung his arms from side to side - fingers snapping with each move. Ignis himself was not quite accustomed to other forms of dance, but he was positive he’d seen King Regis mimic the very move he was performing once or twice with Clarus by side. And he seemed to be doing well enough, or so he thought, as Prompto had broken out into a magnificent grin; however, it was soon followed by a snort and with that, a storm of boisterous laughter - hands moving to quickly cover his mouth. Whether to muffle his chuckles or ease the advisor’s non-existent shame, Ignis did not know.

Barely able to speak properly, Prompto wheezed. “What are you even _doing?_ ”

Ceasing all movement slowly, he set his spectacles further upon his nose, looking to the other nonplussed. “Dancing?”

“No way! That’s not dancing--” He snickered. “That’s the-- pfft-- _the Corlton!_ ”

“The who?”

“Don’t you watch _Fresh Prince of Galahd?_ ” A look of surprise appeared upon the man’s visage, but only for a moment before he wrinkled his nose. “That is such a crime.” A beat. “I like your style, but we’ll stick to the fancy-prance dancing.”

Ignis could not explain how he felt then, Prompto and he exchanging quiet, soft glances for no particular reason other than mutual amusement - and the advisor could only think that there was a development occurring much faster than he could very well understand it, more than he _wanted_ to.

Prompto exhaled through his nose and he couldn’t help but speak to fill the silence. “What is it?”

“I dunno.” The blond shrugged, averting his gaze, though his infectious smile never left his face. “You just looked so happy right then is all.”

Ignis swallowed.

Looking down at his designer wrist watch in order to avoid too blue eyes, he ignored all semblance of excitement, only attempting to appear as though time was dwindling more quickly than it truly was - needing a moment or two of introspection. “It seems that it is time for your training.” Ignis knew it rude, but he couldn’t help but step over to the stereo before witnessing just what the blond’s face looked like, unable to stop thinking about his laughter - the curve of his mouth. A gloved index pressed a button marked crimson in spot, the music suddenly coming to an abrupt end, leaving them both without the continuous buffer. “I will drop you off, head to a meeting, and be there by the end of your session to pick you up. Is that alright?”

“Of course it is. You don’t hafta ask me.”

“It never does any harm. I do appreciate that you have a short list of requirements.” And truly, he did, but there was a disconnect between the words he spoke and the way he felt - the compliment not even seeming worth it, and the bespectacled man wondered briefly if it was he or Prompto making him feel so strangely awkward in a situation that should simply seem like a daily task. Forcing himself to set aside his rather tense facade, he turned to the blond with a smile, watching him relax his freckled shoulders - returning the gesture.

“Well, ya know me. Low maintenance.”

“A surprise, actually, now that it has been mentioned.”

“Yeah.” Moving to clasp his hands behind his back, the gunner stepped a bit closer, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Ignis hummed, heaving the large doors open once more, beckoning him to step through. “I have yet to decide.”

* * *

The walk to the training grounds was a rather quiet one, the silence comfortable, though seemingly unwanted - at least by the newest member of the Crownsguard, Prompto trying his best to make conversation all the while Ignis stayed put within his own mind, though he gave effort in order to respond sufficiently enough for the gunner to feel that he wasn’t being ignored. He’d fancied himself an attentive man, a confident and understanding leader amongst followers, but at the moment - he could not follow the disarray one man suddenly brought upon his daily routine.

It wasn’t even so much his presence, though that was overwhelming in itself, but perhaps the fact that Ignis had so few actual friends and sources of comfort throughout his life that the addition of Prompto was simply too much.

_What a mundane, trivial thing._

It was invading his thoughts nonetheless, so much that the other had ended speech once more, and Ignis could only hope that he hadn’t given the man another reason to worry as he lead him to the grounds he knew well - laiden with stone and rubble surrounded by walls of marble, the once pristine obstacles torn to shreds if only by the constant use of the Citadel’s protectors.

“Gladio!”

At the sound of Prompto’s shout, the bespectacled advisor looked sharply to his right, a tall and inked - and shirtless - figure raising an arm in greeting as he jogged over to close the distance. It seemed the perfect opportunity to step away and continue on with his duties, alone and unhindered by his pointless musings. Turning to Prompto, he gave the blond a nod. “I should be back in about an hour. Be weary of your strengths and be sure to stretch.”

“Hand the punk over already, Ignis.” Quick to arrive the shield was, but he did nothing to complain about the interruption, the bulkier of them hardly out of breath even though signs of prior physical activity were implied by his glistening form.

Ignis heaved an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be too hard on him, Gladio.”

Two large fists rose up to knuckle together, full lips twisting into a grin. “No promises.”

The huff of Prompto’s groan only made the older man move to ruffle his golden locks, the chamberlain shaking his head at the very scene. “Very well. Good luck, Prompto.”

“Thanks,” came the sarcastic drawl, “I’ll need it!”

Ignis left the training grounds amused, feeling newly refreshed from interaction of a different variety as he then made his way down several familiar halls, memories of hours past fading as he changed focus - the topic of the meeting in the forefront of his mind instead of spun, platinum hair and blue eyes.

How odd that it seemed, for the swell of undesired emotion to wash away once the one whom caused them was nowhere in sight.

Ignis moved forward, pushing the subject further from his mind.

It was as easily done as it was said, he found, instead facing a head-on collision as he took a particularly sharp turn rather than his being’s own betrayal - the pain of his slight windedness only placed upon the backburner by an apology. “Forgive me - I am terribly sorry about that. I wasn’t quite watching where I was going...”

“Specs?”

Emerald hues locked upon the owner of so familiar a voice, the very prince himself rubbing the back of his own head, soured visage wrinkling as the very same hand moved to skirt his nose. Ignis blinked once or twice before straightening his posture, clearing his throat.

“Noct.”


	5. Revenge of the Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At that moment, Ignis was the pinnacle of his thoughts, even if Gladiolus hit harder than any beast ever could.
> 
> “So, you ever gonna tell Iggy you got the major fuckin’ hots?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> Ever since I started this new job, all of my time gets eatened up, but I'm really hoping that I can shell out more chapters fast. This is the slowest slow burn and it is killing me that we are still so far from the end. 
> 
> I am really trying to show a stark difference between Ignis and Prompto's chapters by way of speech and how I write; usually, I am rather flowery with language, but I wanted a simpler, more clipped way with words for our gunner. I hope I accomplished that. 
> 
> Thank you for always supporting, though. You are all lovely!

_“I'm just the speck inside your head,_

_You came and made me who I am.”_

_\- Be Somebody, Thousand Foot Krutch_

It was hard, now that he’d spent one-on-one time with Ignis, to watch him leave.

Prompto felt as though he was missing out, in a way, on the little things he’d learn about the man in the hours he was not with him - whether it was his deep-rooted kindness or the quirks he had, goofy and unrestrained beneath the mask. And what they had shared, so freely given and without discourse, was something he would have never expected. Then again, maybe he simply didn’t know Ignis like he had believed, on the outside looking in and barely skimming the surface. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to continue on without finding out more, and it only proved his fear of things not being quite the same once the week was over.

This was still just part of a bet.

There was so much to lose in so little time, he felt as though he happened to be back in high school, wondering how long until the hourglass allowed its last grain to slip through - never knowing if he’d have the chance to get it back, if it was too late. Prompto wanted to cherish the time he had with Ignis, even if it would never be as they were come Saturday; it was what he told himself, at least, what he wished for.

He tried to forget the part about loving him, something that certainly _hadn’t_ changed despite coming face to face with the object of his affections - only now, it actually hurt to think about. Noctis used to say that his crush would blow over and become a thing of the past once he truly stood beside the advisor instead of admiring from afar, but the blond had never been one to take his own feelings lightly and just like anything else, he dove in with everything he had. Maybe he wasn’t a suave romantic that could charm him, or someone Ignis could ever be proud of, but he was well aware of what he wanted even though he’d never obtain him.

Prompto looked away from the door he found himself staring at, the chamberlain having long since left the training area and mislaying no sign of his presence in his wake; there was no use in getting off track now that he was within the training hall.

A large hand fell to his shoulder, Gladiolus - tall and strong - standing over him with a smile that almost never left his face most days, oddly comforting after pulling himself from the same inner turmoil. “Lookin’ like a sight for sore eyes, four eyes.”

“Hey!” Thin, freckled fingers reached up to press and feel at the frames, wrinkling his nose at the older man’s comment before giving him a signature pout; leave it to the shield to also discredit himself the moment he opened his mouth. “The saleswoman at the store said I looked _‘charming’_ in them.”

“They’re supposed to do that. That’s how they get you to buy glasses.”

“You can’t let me have nice things, can you?”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he feigned annoyance, grumbling all the way to the middle of the training room - opalescent walls and frosted columns giving it a look for the ages, ethereal and mystical as the touch of the Glacian was said to be in the storybooks. It was a shame that the only thing men came to such a room to do was sweat and throw their weight; the grounds where he and the Marshal garnered strength was far different.

And it was only because he hadn’t been a Crownsguard then.

Cor had never bothered bringing him within the Citadel walls for a workout, the area being off limits to any of which hadn’t the permissions, so he supposed he had to feel lucky that - for one day - he did. Noctis trained there, along with Gladiolus several times a week, and they never had to bear the watchful eyes of the glaive that protected them - never had to feel an intruder to their own home, because it was theirs and they had the privilege, as did Cor and Ignis.

In the future, he figured walking among them would give him that privilege as well.

He looked toward the door once more.

“Don’t worry. Iggy will be back to save you before you know it.”

Prompto didn’t bat an eye and didn’t bother to think much more on the subject, simply turning to the tall Amicitia with a grin as he gave an annoyed _‘tsk,’_ flexing his bicep and giving it an affectionate pat.

“No way! You’ll be the one who needs saving!”

* * *

Gladiolus was _not_ the one who needed saving.

His head was pounding, legs sore from constantly attempting to evade the larger man’s attacks, and even he wasn’t able to avoid some of the heavier few - quick as he bragged to be. Prompto was sure that Cor had always gone easy on him then, being wiped out by the shield in record time in comparison to how well he fared against the Marshal. Maybe it was just the fact that Gladio fought with his all, regardless of whether or not he was training or in the midst of a true battle - and whatever the reason, Prompto knew he would be sporting more than a few bruises here and there.

“Nice form, Prom!”

At least the man wasn’t short of encouragement.

Though, he hadn’t the time to register it, because as good as he was with long-ranged weaponry - he still lacked the physical strength in hand-to-hand combat, something the shield knew much like it was breathing, the instinct of an animal of power. Still, as much as his arms ached and his fingers seized from attempting to hold a fist, he wore on with great discomfort; it didn’t help that each and every time he moved, he could only think of how Ignis would have been far more graceful.

The gunner quickly - and by the skin of his teeth - dodged an incoming blow, landing on his feet after a sloppy somersault. Hands slammed onto his knees, heaving breaths forcing their way from his lungs faster than he could fill them with air. The red frames perched upon his nose slid from his sweat slicked face and he wondered how his favored advisor was able to move so swiftly without his own falling away from his eyes.

With a strained grunt, he shoved the specs higher up against his brow.

“Not bad, really.”

The burlier of them stepped over, unable to do much more than place a weighted hand onto the blond’s shoulder before Prompto gave him a huff, reaching up to aim upon the man’s meaty limb a swat as he groaned in pain. “I’m still behind. I’m nowhere near your level, or Iggy’s.”

Gladio laughed lightheartedly, shaking his head and giving the gunner’s arm a friendly punch - to which he nearly stumbled forward, barely able to catch himself as he yelped out a strangled _‘hey’_ and revealed his most fearsome glare.

“Relax, Prompto. You only started, like, yesterday.”

“Nu-uh! It’s been _two_ months!”

He’d been joking, at first, about not being able to keep up, off-handed comments that were self-deprecating at best never seemed to bother him much - but knowing just how powerful the eldest of them happened to be, it was enough to make him doubt his own ability to protect anyone, let alone Noctis. It hadn’t crossed his mind until that very second, but part of him wanted to seem impressive, worthy; that wasn’t something he could say he was in any one man’s eyes.

“Get that long face outta here, Prompto. You’re not some kicked puppy, so let’s pull it together. It takes time to build skill, you won’t become top dog overnight.” Crossing his arms over his broad chest, the hard expression Gladiolus wore softened a bit. “Just ask Iggy. He had the worst form I’d ever fuckin’ seen.”

Large crystalline hues blinked, suddenly pulled from his self-pitying by the other’s words, giving over into another feeling entirely. Though, whether it was because the big guy insulted the advisor or that the comment was said to make him feel better, he couldn’t really say. Prompto smiled anyhow, a skeptical look appearing on his face soon after. “Really?”

“You bet. It took picking up gymnastics for him to actually keep his balance during a session with Cor.”

“...I don’t believe you.”

“Ask him. Or don’t; he’ll know I told you.”

Prompto was surprised for a moment, taking in the thought of Ignis being anything but perfectly poised and graceful in all that he did, exceptional in truly every way. It nearly made him smile, mind wandering to the other imperfect quirks he’d discovered, somehow feeling closer to the advisor. “He just seems like the kinda guy who’d never be anything but on point, ya know?”

The curl of Gladiolus’ lips was sinister and if the blond didn’t know any better, he’d say the other’s wheels were turning in some mischievous manner. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s so smart and cool. And he never misses a thing.”

“I dunno. Iggy’s kinda lame.”

“You’re kinda lame!” A snort escaped him and he looked up at the shield, realizing his words were a rather quick knee jerk reaction, though he wasn’t really angry. It was just so easy to get defensive when the person they were talking about wasn’t there; he was only being a standup guy!

_Yeah, that’s it._

Glittering gems didn’t quite see it that way, callused fingers rubbing at a stubbled chin thoughtfully. “ _Oh,_ I see. Is _that_ why you seem so...occupied?”

“What?” Prompto attempted to appear nonplussed by the man’s statement, though even he knew he wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions within the strands of his eyes, there for the scrutinization. It didn’t help that Gladio looked so damned _pleased_ with himself, his smoldering ambers dancing with laughter as he bent at the torso, as though he would readily continue battle in the next moment.

“Your head’s somewhere else. I can tell.” A wolfish grin appeared upon full tiers, sharp canines clamping to his bottom lip in a failed attempt to calm his giddiness. “What are you thinkin’ about? Or who?”

Partway through a heavy breath, Prompto fell still, so much so that he robbed himself of air, feeling transparent as a pane of glass - vulnerable and easily shattered. He could already feel his cheeks rising in temperature, hot and more telling than words would ever be. “I’m not thinking about anyone.”

“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re so distracted.”

And if he were ever honest with himself, it was painfully obvious that he was; yet, it was so difficult not to be, what when he knew good and well that sometime in the next half hour, Ignis would be stepping through that door once again - ready to take him home and probably set off to do a chore that the blond could have done himself. The chamberlain was a welcomed trespasser within the confines of his mind, looking over him with a soft upturn of the lips and a thoughtful hum. Though, with the shield just feet away, looking to him knowingly and like he had won by a landslide in a game Prompto was unsure he was even playing - he was more on his guard than he had been in a long time.

“I am not! I’m just fine.” With the last minute thought to distract Gladiolus in the simplest way possible, he resumed his position for battle once more, lips pursed. “Come at me, I’ll show you what I mean!”

Thick brows rose in pleasant surprise and the wider man shrugged. “Well. You asked for it.”

Far faster his companion was than he seemed, with or without the heavy sword he usually carried upon his shoulder, and Prompto had gasped before he could think to react - sidestepping at the last minute with barely enough time to stand his ground. He wound his fist back, thinking that the only way he could even scathe a man like Gladiolus was to abandon defense and try his hand at real combat and with a sharp jab, he plunged his curled hand toward a chiseled cheek - only for his punch to be dodged with a chuckle, large hand grasping the front of his shirt and slamming him into the unforgiving and surprisingly spotless tile floor.

Prompto lied winded for a long moment, coughing as his hands wrapped around his sparring partner’s wrists, Gladio letting up after a second or two - crouched down above the blond, both satisfied and perhaps a bit apologetic. He swept aside some non-existent dust from the front of the gunner’s shirt before sighing, pulling his hands back and looking to him with a shake of the head.

“You’re distracted.”

“Am not!” Rolling away from the shield with a grunt, shaking legs pulled his body upward, gloved hand immediately gripping at his side with a barely audible whine. “Ow...You hit hard.”

The only response he received was a potion placed into his free hand, crushed between their fingers as he soaked in its relief, and a large finger moving to poke the middle of his crimson frames before the same offender flicked his forehead. Reaching up to rub at the newly formed sore spot, Prompto wrinkled his nose as booming laughter filled the room. “So, you ever gonna tell Iggy that you got the major fuckin’ hots?”

Fidgeting digits stopped immediately, looking to the other with a nervous, fearful glance. “What?”

“You know, are you going to tell Iggy that you’re his number one fanboy?”

“Gods, don’t say it like that! I-I don’t!”  Lunging forward, he took hold of the older man’s waist, attempting to tackle him into submission - if anything - though, his efforts seemed little worth it. With whatever strength he had left, he was able to knock him off balance, Gladiolus’ second nature of halting any attacking kicking in and apprehending the blond. A strong arm wrapped around Prompto’s shoulders, pulling him towards his body and effectively locking him against his chest, spindly legs kicking and clipped nails biting in opposition as he held him - unimpressed.

“Yeah, sure.” Dropping the gunner onto his feet, he placed his hands on his hips, pursed lips wrinkling from side to side as he gave into thought. And Prompto hadn’t even a second to regain his composure before he clapped his hands together, the sheer hardness of them creating a resonating thrum. Gladiolus’ finger wagged his way and he took on a rather imposing expression. “Look. I bet you I know a way to impress him. You at least wanna do that, right?”

If he were truly honest, there was nothing he wanted more at that moment, and the taller Crownsguard had a point - even if he denied having feelings for Ignis, there was no doubt that he wanted to be seen as a strong player in his eyes. He would give him that much. “I guess…”

The look in the older man’s hues screamed _‘hook, line, and sinker,’_ but he pretended to be none the wiser, finding that pointing out Gladio’s crooked points tended to increase his need to be abrasive. The intensity of such an insistent gaze wasn’t exactly doing well for his anxiousness, if anything. “We’ll stage a show. Really show him that you’ve got what it takes to be the only thing he sets his eyes on.”

“Gladio--”

“Hey, just. When he comes in, give it your all. I’ve got your back.”

There was a strangled noise unable to skirt its way from the back of his throat, Prompto settling for a sigh of resignation, shifting his weight from one foot to the next until his left knee began cramping from the overuse. “Thanks, but who even knows if this will work? I guarantee you - he’ll know I’m a big faker.”

“Not if you’re really convincing. I know for a fact Cor taught you some moves.”

“I mean, yeah, but they’re nothing special.”

There was something in Gladio’s eyes that said he didn’t really believe him, and knowing the Marshal as he did, he was right to think such; it wasn’t as if the blond wanted to hide any super secret technique, he just didn’t have the confidence to feel like he could pull it off. However, the shield was nothing if not one to smooth talk a man into getting what he wanted, especially for the benefit of a friend. For that, Prompto could only appreciate him. “If there’s one thing you gotta know about leaving an impression, it’s that it’s always about the show. I bet you could really surprise him if you got the finesse.”

And the thought of lighting up Ignis’ eyes was far too tempting to cast aside.

Looking to the other, he wore at the inside of his cheek, always overthinking - always planning out each and every devastating situation he could land in. He was an optimistic man, but there was no denying the way he sabotaged himself, his non-existent love life not being any different. It left an ache in his chest and a sigh on his lips, but there was a part of him that just wanted to give in and say 'yes.'

By the sound of the training room door clicking open, he didn’t quite need to.

“Look, here’s lover boy now.” Quicker than he would have ever expected, Prompto side-stepped before Gladiolus’ wide body could crash into him, skidding to a painful halt and ignoring the sudden bite of his ankle - eyes scanning the room until they landed upon the chamberlain, the curl of his lips only causing a small smile of his own before a rumbling voice ruined so gratifying a moment. “On your toes.”

Each breach of his defense was not the shallow barrel without weight he was thinking them to be, not taking much to realize that the other man was definitely not going easy on him, barely pulling his punches as the gunner dodged. In as low a whisper he could muster while still allowing his sparring partner to hear him, he spoke in quick gunshots. “Aren’t you supposed to be _helping?_ ”

“Shut it, we gotta look authentic. I’ll be giving you an opening, just keep an eye out for it.”

And he did.

Seemingly, however, it never came - and he was tiring at an alarming rate, having been moving nearly constantly for the past hour, his stamina not quite as high as a man whom had been training for the better part of his life. The sweat on his brow was dangerously close to clouding his vision, glasses only a nuisance if he bothered to notice them, more focused on the bird of prey along muscular arms - each forceful jab like the sharp cut of wings through the air, fluid and devastating to their chase.

And then, by some stroke of luck, he _saw_ it - in plain sight, a chance just big enough to push through for the taking, and how quickly he sought to take it. “Oh, hi there, opening!”

Dodging a tackle with a grin, the blond’s slender body rushed forward, using the man’s outstretched arm as leverage in order to vault over him and land on his feet behind the behemoth - last minute decision to hook his arms underneath the other’s as the colossus spun around making it simple for him to bring him over his shoulder.

_He’s making this way too easy._

Suplexing Gladiolus over and onto his back was nearly as unexpected as the blond’s last minute reverse somersault, his knee planted upon the man’s chest as they landed, red frames falling from his face and onto the floor - his battered hands moving to pick them up just as fast. There was a moment in which he simply sat, feeling out of breath after tossing _who knows how many_ pounds of meat over his head, the soreness surely going to set in once he was sitting comfortably in Noct’s apartment.

It was another few seconds before he looked to his winded friend, the man’s eyes wide as he stared at the blond, lips parted as if he were truly as stupefied as he would have been if the stunt pulled was actually real. He had to admit, the shield was true to his word and the surprise was a nice touch; the _cherry on top_ , his best pal would say.

There was the sound of a deep, audible breath beneath him. “What the…”

“Wonderful job, Prompto.”

It was the clapping that caught him off guard, even in tempo as leather touched leather, and his bright eyes snapped upward - catching the advisor’s own from across the room. And he couldn’t hold back his body’s reactions, how he knew the red painted his cheeks and the shyest of smiles lit up his face, looking to Ignis with near _gratitude_ that he would even praise him. Yet, it must have been enough for Gladio, as he made a small show of shoving Prompto off of him - the gunner regaining balance on his own two feel as the shield stood, rolling his shoulders with a gravelly huff as he stepped forward, as though he were to leave without regarding him at all.

For a good second, Prompto swore he looked angry.

“Gladio,” he called quietly, catching the man before he walked away, “thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

Gladiolus looked more peeved than usual, but Prompto didn’t question it, only watched as he covered the distance of the room and conversed quietly with an amused looking Ignis - trotting over to him once he heard a gruff expletive and saw the shield’s hulking form stalk from the training room. He meant to ask if something was wrong, but he could only think it was nothing, because the advisor wore a look that brightened the entire room despite how soft and fleeting it was.

“Shall we go, Prompto?”

* * *

“You didn’t have to get ice cream, Iggy.”

Tentative hands in fingerless gloves held tightly to the cartons pressed to his slightly dampened shirt - having just exited the Citadel showers not an hour ago, they were _incredible_ \- the cold doing nothing to bother him as they drove toward Prompto’s stand-in apartment, not even minding that his chest was surely a bright red from the chill or that Ignis had somehow found an ice cream flavor like _matcha green tea_ for dessert. As completely and utterly weird as such an odd combination was, he didn’t oppose it, because he was far too elated with his own treat to even bother. Not to mention the fact that it was the advisor whom had decided on stopping and grabbing them from the market, leaving the blond beaming all the way down to the frozen foods aisle; he tried to ignore the stare of the market owner, that was for sure.

The point was, in any sense, that he felt the day had been better than most he’d ever had.

“Nonsense, you did marvelously today.”

Confirmed.

“Oh,” he looked down at the decorated pint tops, “it was nothin’.”

“Gladiolus looked much like a fish out of water after that overhead tactic. I was terribly impressed.” The car stopped shortly after they turned into the parking garage, the ride having been bereft of music, as there had been a lot of conversation between them - and Prompto had never thought ending a ride could be so bittersweet. “But, never the matter. We are home now.”

_We._

It sent a giddy rush of blood through his veins and straight to his freckled cheeks, his lips softly smiling as he stared at nothing in particular, just trying to reign in his own pounding heartbeat before his hand untangled itself from the ice cream cartons to grab for the handle of the car door - only to find that it had already been opened, Ignis having exited the driver’s seat and taken the liberty of helping the blond himself. Prompto tried not to look him in the eye as the advisor took the plastic bag from his arms, stepping aside after he did so, the gunner laughing nervously at his own awkwardness and hopping out of the car. “Ah, thanks.”

“Not a problem. Do come along now, though, night is fast approaching and it is getting rather chilly.” His words seamlessly followed the blond’s own and he was a centripetal force, pulling him along the complex’s halls, noticing nothing else as they made their way back to Noctis’ apartment - only breaking away from the spell by an overwhelming sense of warmth.

Prompto sighed as he rubbed along his arms. “I didn’t even realize how cold it was out there; Noct’s apartment actually feels warm!”

There was the sound of a door closing, shuffling and clinking behind him indicating that the chamberlain had relieved himself of the market bags and his overcoat. “At the temperature he keeps, who would have thought?”

“Yeah.” Spinning on his heel, he walked over to the counter of the connecting kitchen, reaching into the bag to grab for his treat - tongue poking out from between his plush lips, as though it was work requiring concentration. “Hey, Iggy, since you got this stuff - does that mean you’re staying a little longer?”

The face the man pulled was uncomfortable, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say, or to very well admit. “As it is, I felt rather terrible that you did not get to start that movie you wanted to watch. You may think me foolish, if you wish, but I simply thought you might like to continue where we had not quite began.”

Prompto wasn’t sure whether to gasp or beam and, strangely enough, he shelled out a combination of both. “Hell yeah! _Revenge of the Six_ looks so cool!”

“Language, though, indeed.” Taking the pint from his hands, Ignis stepped around him and over to the various drawers that held the appliances, setting it down beside his own as he made to remove his gloves.  “I shall find us the proper utensils, the movie should still be where you left it.”

With no hope of slowing his palpitating heart, he nodded, jogging all of two paces to grab the wrapped bowl upon the counter from that very morning - grinning sheepishly at Ignis’ obvious distaste. “Gotta get my popcorn.”

“I will try not to think about how stale that must be by now.”

“Hey, this stuff only gets better with age.”

The unspoken _‘hardly’_ was as loud as either of them could imagine, but it was left at that, and Prompto took it as his cue to kick off his shoes and walk his way over to the couch, plopping down with a happy sigh as he reached for the controller on the table - his other hand pulling off the wrap on the popcorn bowl and shoving some into his mouth.

It was still definitely delicious.

It was simple enough to get back to the title screen, the sight of computer animated Astrals making him bounce in his seat, waiting patiently for the advisor to settle beside him. There was only the rustling of the bespectacled man working in the kitchen, but he didn’t have much time to listen as intently as he wanted to, his phone vibrating for the first time since that morning in his pocket; he didn’t waste a minute reaching for it, reading the words across his lockscreen with a snort.

Ignis must have stepped over to the sofa just in time, sitting down neatly, one leg crossed over the other as he offered Prompto his dessert - top already removed and spoon lodged into the core, which the blond took without needing to be reminded twice. The older man’s emerald eyes traveled to his cellular nonchalantly, though they seemed full of questions. “What is it?”

“It’s a text from Noct.”

A gentle hum was his immediate reply, some seconds passing before Ignis spoke once more. “Is this the first time you have heard from him?”

“Nah, I saw some texts this morning, but I forgot to answer them. It was just the normal stuff; complaining about different things. Noct being Noct.”

“I see; he has been sparse lately.”

“Yeah...I mean, now that you mention it, Gladio didn’t even talk about him today and for some reason - I thought he would have.”

“Nonsense, he is having far too good of a time seeing things play out to actually put his sense into it.” Gently pulling the controller from Prompto’s hand, he pressed lightly on the ‘X’ button, allowing the previews to run as the blond gazed at the message once more. “What does it say?”

_I heard you’ve been playing Origins. You owe me. :(_

The tapping of fingers commenced and he smiled a bit.

_Me and Iggy are totally going for the platinum._

“Nothing important.” Ignis seemed a bit disappointed with his answer and Prompto wished he had said something else, not finding the advisor’s solemn expression to be one he liked, but there was nothing he truly believed he could do - only distract him with what was right there. Spooning a mountain of ice cream into his mouth, he hoped the sugar would make them both feel better as he nudged the chamberlain excitedly. “Oh, oh! It’s starting!”

_“Scourge Wars: Revenge...of...the...Six!”_

They silently sunk into the film then.

The movie had a slow start, but just like the hours they sat side by side as Ignis played Assassin’s Creed, it wasn’t quite slow enough - and there wasn’t a single moment in which he truly immersed himself into the film, like usual. Instead, he was reminded of the advisor’s constant presence, the way he shifted and their legs touched or his hums of speculation making him smile with a mouthful of ice cream stuffed in his cheeks. He took an odd comfort in being there next to him and suddenly, oddly enough, the sight of The Archaean tossing Shiva half way across a dead planet was awfully romantic.

He hadn’t even noticed the way his eyelids fluttered as they became heavier, or how his hand was carefully engulfed by Ignis’ own as his melting pint was gently pulled away from him; it didn’t even matter that his head lolled slowly to the side as his last thought of the night circled through his mind.

_What even is Ardykin Skyzunia wearing?_


	6. Never Fear, I Am Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++ Prompto was unaware that he would be unable to fight alongside Noctis without regular examination.
> 
> +++ Ignis uses chocobos as bribing material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter, personally. It really fits with my headcanons in which Prompto is against all forms of medical personnel and will refuse to go to one, no matter what. 
> 
> Anyhow, I do hope you all enjoy! <3

_“You didn’t have to smile at me._

_Your grin’s the sweetest that I’ve ever seen,_

_But you did._

_Yes, you did.”_

_\- Honeybee, Steam Powered Giraffe_

_“Specs?”_

_Emerald hues locked upon the owner of so familiar a voice, the very prince himself rubbing the back of his own head, soured visage wrinkling as the very same hand moved to skirt his nose. Ignis blinked once or twice before straightening his posture, clearing his throat._

_“Noct.” For some odd reason, he could not quite say that he was surprised to see the young prince before him, strutting the halls of his own Citadel in good grace; it was becoming of a man whom would one day be their king, after all. “I see you are in good health.”_

_Twitching his nose, Noctis’ expression pinched slightly, as though the advisor’s very voice struck a loose chord - the tune unbalanced and off-putting. “Why wouldn’t I be?”_

_In all of the years he had known Noctis, ever since King Regis rattled speech unto their young ears and his hand was first placed within the prince’s own, Ignis had never believed himself a confrontational man - even when faced with the greatest of trials, the utmost moments of frustration. However, what he’d felt deep within his pulsating chest was a wound so raw, the simple act of breathing caused its bleed. Tensions had certainly been running high as of late, but it was never expected to lead to such a feeling of grief._

_“Of course, how could I forget? You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.” His voice hardly sounded his own, throat suddenly dry as he spoke. “It is good to know that you are doing well.”_

_The advisor could feel the need to grab hold of his pocket pen and abuse the clicker until he was calm once more, but he decidedly refrained, instead stepping away from the younger man - making his way around him and down the hall at a brisk pace. And he would have rounded the corner, had the other not called out in a voice so suggesting of command._

_“Wait.” Ignis complied immediately, barely counting a beat before Noctis continued, much softer in tone. “How’s Prompto?”_

_Emerald hues closed with an audible exhale from lips pressed into a thin line, a nervous buzz thrumming beneath his skin in unwanted, unyielding sensation._

_“A dream by comparison.”_

_He walked away thinking, without a shred of doubt, that he should not have said such a thing._

* * *

There was an odd sense of euphoria surrounding him when he awoke.

It began with such a feeling of warmth, light flooding through the strands of his long lashes and stirring him with unapologetic interruption, but it was a gentle touch of morning - without the ringing of alarms or the weight of duty. There was a quiet rustling and the soft hum of a slumbering hymn that only gave into a more elated effect, taking hold of his chest in dizzying sensation and leaving him bereft of memories from a disconcerting nightmare, tenderly lulling him into soft dreams.

It was...wonderful.

It took but a few lingering moments to realize that the source was moving, not far, but enough to indicate that it was there. And with a shallow breath, the advisor opened his eyes, blinking several times as he took in the walls above him - because he hadn’t quite remembered falling asleep, and since what instance in time did he have a popcorn ceiling? It was terribly tacky.

He set aside such qualms as the shuffling warmth at his side suddenly stilled, bringing all attention to it, Ignis lifting his head from the back of the sofa that he had indeed been slumbering upon to see a mess of blond locks draped over his shoulder; he tiredly rested his cheek upon them. It was only then that he understood that he’d fallen asleep in Noctis’ apartment, Prompto curled into him and movie still unwatched - or watched, but hardly paid any mind - and his hand rested over the man’s thigh.

He ever so carefully removed it.

The action must have woken the gunner as well, as his head shot from its resting position so quickly, he had bumped their heads together - Ignis’ spectacles skewing slightly. Blue eyes came into view soon after the advisor reached to adjust his frames, the blond’s own having fallen from his nose and into the cushions, the small indentations on either side of his bridge looking comically crimson as he scrambled to put a bit of space between them. And the chamberlain hid his frown, taking the moment to gather his wits, looking to his wristwatch to observe the time.

Mid-morning; he supposed he didn’t need wits.

“Sorry! Sorry--” Prompto seemed a broken record, preoccupied with his apologies that were hardly warranted, as they’d been sitting beside eachother anyhow. That… and Ignis was positive that, beneath the blankets of his own made bed - warm and isolated from worry and stress - he’d never felt quite as comfortable. And catching sight of his reflection in the glass of his watch, he saw a man at odds, finding that his companion had noticed as well. “Are, ah, you okay?”

“Yes, I was simply looking at the time and --” His eyes traveled to the gunman’s arms, not so terribly bruised with purples and greens as they were dusted with an ill yellow hue, but enough that he could speculate that they hurt to the very touch. “I believe I should be the one asking you that question.”

Prompto’s confused, blinking eyes somehow left him at a loss for words, and he had begun to wonder if it was he whom had suffered injury, clearly concussed if his thoughts were ever so telling of such. They were soon out of his sights, thankfully, having taken the moment to observe his own healing surface wounds with a groan - poking at one of the welts. “Ow. I didn’t notice, I guess. Are they bad?”

“Not particularly, but…” Carefully, perhaps more for himself than for the blond, his gloved hand wrapped around the man’s forearm - noting the results of training with a concerned expression. “Did Gladio not provide curatives to you? How irresponsible.”

Whether he had been heard, he was unsure, as Prompto was staring at his hand so intensely, he thought it enough to make it combust; however, the gunner was quick to catch silence, free hand moving to rub the back of his neck as he looked up from his arm - laughing in the nervous way that he does. “Oh, it’s okay! He forgot...and I can’t blame him! I totally kicked his ass.”

_Language._

He couldn’t bare to scold him, for what it was worth, and to his surprise - he found himself chuckling instead, the other’s earnest ways ever so endearing.

“Indeed, you did. Still, as your mentor, he should have known better. We could have prevented much of this discoloration.” Turning the man’s arm in his hand, he allowed adept fingers to trail along the bruises, pleased to find him bereft of lacerations. Though, the further he traveled, the more he began to notice fine, black lines beneath the blond’s bracelets. And with tentative hands, he began to slide them forward toward himself to have a better look. “What’s this?”

“No!” A sharp pull of the wrist was all it took for the other to snatch his hand back, holding it to his chest so tightly, it sent Ignis’ very mind reeling. It seemed that Prompto was terribly protective of whatever those strange markings happened to be, a secret that he had come across without permission. “S-Sorry.”

“Please,” his tone was level and he was hardly hurt by such an action, only wishing to assure the gunner that he was quite alright, “it is I who must apologize. I will not ask for secrets you don’t wish to tell.”

“Secrets?”

Perhaps he had chosen his words incorrectly, as often _secrets_ were associated with a negative connotation, but he did not attempt to vacillate his meaning - simply running with it as it was. “We all have them, Prompto, and it is perfectly fine.”

Ignis had never thought himself a secretive man, but it was in that moment he realized he had them, too.

It struck him unlike anything else.

But, as most trivial things, he did not bother to think much on it.

Something he had said must have gotten through, as the blond unwound from his defensive position and pulled him from a string of emotions, lowering his hands - though he refused to let the other's wrist go for the moment. And somehow, Ignis felt as though he had taken a step backward; the very thought foreign to one whom of which prided himself of being capable of only moving forward. Though, Prompto did not allow him to linger in uneasiness for long, looking up at him, slightly unnerved. “So, if I have a secret, it’s okay? You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Not at all.”

Plush lips curled upward, a light flush on the gunner’s cheeks giving the advisor relief, and he exhaled more easily then. “Okay.”

“...I believe I should take this time to freshen up; I have spare clothing here for times when I am up particularly late studying with Noctis. Though, those days seemed to have passed, seeing as you’ve both graduated.” He was rambling, he knew, and he briefly wondered if Prompto had noticed how unlike him it was. “I will be right back.”

* * *

There was a certain pleasure one could relish in beneath the spray of hot water; his hair invaded his vision and he had spent the last ten minutes washing up, but there was a part of him that wished to never leave the shower. It was a difficult trial, to battle unwanted emotions whilst attempting to defend his pride, and trying to understand just why his heart both fluttered and sunk throughout the duration of the entirety of the bet Noctis and Prompto had commenced on a whim. There were too many questions that had arose in such a short amount of time, for it was merely three days into the week and he was already wondering why he'd never noticed just how disconnected he was from the prince he'd sworn to protect, how - under his nose - there was an appreciation to be had for the man's best friend. And it was more than a burden on his heart to fear there being a future without either of them because of something as silly as an argument over his overbearing nature.

It was not as if he wished for Noctis to feel uncomfortable or annoyed with him, but he had promised King Regis many years ago that he would always be there for him, that he would help him succeed, should he ever be close to failing. Was it not natural that he manage what the prince refused to himself?

As for Prompto, there were far too many red flags concerning his own frivolous emotions than he wished to bargain for; the way the blond was beginning to charm him in ways he had not thought of, from his lovable personality to his considerate way of going about his day, it was hard _not_ to find for him a place in the advisor's heart. Yet, still, he was Noctis’ closest friend, a soon to be addition to their guard - and he had not the right to be anything more than an acquaintance, nothing more.

The water went cold.

Ignis shivered with the turn of the knob, taking his time to remove himself from the shower and towel off, picking through the change of clothes - placing each and every garment upon himself in a particular order until he looked fit to be advisor, save for the mess of hair upon his head, left as gravity originally intended. It frustrated him to be without the proper products, but he hadn’t much choice after foolishly falling asleep in a place that wasn’t home, the amenities were terribly dry in Noctis’ abode for grooming - but he digressed.

Adjusting his collar, he deemed himself presentable and exited the restroom, walking out into the kitchen as he shoved his gloves into his pocket, Prompto having already dressed - save for his corrective lenses, perhaps turned in for his preferred contacts.

Turning his way with a bottle of water procured from the fridge in hand, the blond looked to the advisor only to begin fumbling with the very beverage; he nearly dropped it several times before he finally had a firm grip upon it, the red tint of his cheeks telling of his sudden embarrassment. Ignis was unsure as to what had even spurred such a reaction, but he hardly pressed it, even as he was given a shy _‘o-oh, hey!’_

“Hello. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Uh, I was gonna go for a poptart, but I figured you’d wanna handle the food.”

The advisor ran a bare hand through his slightly dampened locks before heading over to the pantry, terribly pleased with the man’s response as he rummaged through the dry goods. Grabbing for a package of chocolate chips, he settled on something easy for their morning meal. “How do pancakes sound?”

“The ones I haven’t had since graduation? Hell yeah!” Nodding, prior afflictions had soon escaped him, the methodical motions of cooking soothing him as he prepared the ingredients in a mixing bowl. “So, what’s on the schedule for today, Iggy?”

“Your doctor’s appointment,” he replied swiftly, tossing a few extra chips into his concoction for good measure, “I was actually supposed to run an errand or two this morning, but it will have to wait until we are finished.”

There was a sudden slap of hands on the counter across from him, and Ignis paused in his task to turn to a frazzled Prompto, raising a brow in question. “ _Doctor’s appointment?!_ ”

Turning on the stove, the chamberlain quickly resumed, feeling the beginning of a tantrum; luckily, after many years of knowing Noctis and Gladiolus, he knew just how to manage one. “Yes, do you not remember? I sent you a message about it yesterday morning.”

“I know, but I forgot!” Settling into his seat, the blond audibly swallowed, worry flashing in his endless blues. “We can’t go.”

“Prompto, you have to go. It has been years, from what it seems.”

“B-But I’m okay!” Ignis could feel a sigh on his lips, tugging them apart to express his exasperation first thing in the morning, but instead - he stood before the pan, spatula in hand, and focused on flipping his pancakes. “I won't go!”

* * *

“I can’t believe you bribed me to come here.”

The medical wing within the Citadel was not quite as full as Ignis had expected, though he couldn’t say he had anything to complain about, for the sooner Prompto was admitted - the sooner they would be on their way, as far from a primary care doctor as the blond could be, as far as he _wished_ to be. And looking over to the small, yellow stuffed bird within the other’s hands - holding ever so tightly to it - he could only hum with affirmation, crossed arms and legs appearing rigid within the chilly waiting room.

“Your affinity for chocobos is what is truly unbelievable.” Ignis responded, gloved hand a ghost as it made to adjust his spectacles, hair finely groomed out of his face.

“Cunning, evil--”

“A clean bill of health is never a bad thing.” Prompto simply clutched his newly prized possession with a minute jutting of his bottom lip, muttering beneath his breath in a way that made the advisor look to him fondly, finding that the gunner was terribly open about what he disliked - a primary care doctor at the very top of his list, or perhaps, just after the dentist.

“At what cost?” The dramatic tone of voice was hardly lost as the other pulled his cellular from his vest pocket, fingers rapidly scouring each and every corner of the device - as though the action kept him perfectly distracted from the matter at hand. Ignis remained silent then, simply sitting back in his seat and relaxing his shoulders, though such a stress-free moment would remain for all of a few minutes. “Have you spoken to Noct?”

Recalling the conversation he’d had with the prince the night before, cut short as it was, he heaved a great sigh. “Last night, but only for a brief moment, as I was on my way to a meeting after dropping you off with Gladio.”

“You guys didn’t fight, did you?” The advisor didn’t quite like being looked at with lawful suspicion, but he said nothing if it.

“Not exactly.”

“So, things aren’t any better?”

“He made a bet just so that he could get away from me. I would say that things are just the way they’ve always been, simply with some added distance.” Sharp were his words, and he couldn’t cease movement long enough for his body to stay cool, turning away from Prompto as his arms tightened their cross around his chest - infuriated with his own sensitivity to the debacle.

A simple gesture pulled at his attentions, however, the bumping of freckled shoulders against his own - the only thing his eyes focused on becoming the blond’s smile.

“It’s alright,” he spoke quietly, swaying lightly from side to side, each meeting of arms playful, “I’m here.”

Ignis couldn’t quite help the smile that burned his own cheeks, inexplicably effortless in comparison to most instances in which it was easier to frown. “That you are.”

And Prompto looked so tearfully happy.

* * *

Prompto was also quite tearful before the medical doctor, as well.

His routine checkup went rather decently, the blond following all instructions and becoming more comfortable as things became less awkward - only after he’d begged Ignis to go in with him, of course; there hadn’t been any protest to taking his temperature or blood pressure, and the promise of stickers along with a roll of the doctor’s eyes seemed to lift his spirits, allowing for a simple and speedy examination. However, as it had nearly come to a close, the soft-spoken woman standing before the table had informed the both of them that drawing blood would be the final stage of Prompto’s checkup after patching up his bruises - as Ignis had dreaded - though the gunner, legs bouncing a foot off the ground upon the table, looked the worse for wear.

There was an immediate sense of panic.

“B-Blood test? Why do you need to take my blood?” Lips parted and closed several times as the man paled, the hands upon his knees curling into the fabric, and it was a long thirty odd seconds before he shuffled closer to the extra chair in which the advisor was seated - holding onto his stuffed chocobo for him with patience. His chest rose and fell frantically, and the man raised a hand to grab at his chest, looking to Ignis in accusation. “Iggy, I thought this was just a checkup!”

“It seems that it has been so long since your last appointment that they thought it best to make sure all bases are covered.” Without missing a beat, he stood, moving to stand before Prompto - silently asking with gesture for the doctor to give them a moment, which she respectfully did. It was clear that his companion had a deep fear, but there were some things that were just a tad bit more important than being afraid of a needle. Still, he attempted to empathize with the gentlest of tones. “It will be a quick procedure, I assure you. It is for your own health.”

“They’ll poke and prod - and, and I’ll feel awful after!”

“Once I supply you with your favorite sugary drink, you will feel all the better.”

“N-No, I’m fine, really! Totally cle--”

“Prompto.” Ignis’ voice was the blade of finality, and he looked all the more intimidating, even with plush in hand. It was enough to silence him, averting his gaze and looking anywhere, anywhere but at the advisor himself; it was an awfully uneasy scene, but he took it with grace, in stride and accompanied by the utmost sympathy. “You will be a part of the Crownsguard one day and, as required, we must be examined regularly. You realize that you will be unable to fight alongside Noctis if you fail to complete a checkup?”

He must have struck a chord, as the man’s head snapped upward immediately, looking as though he’d been told something completely surreal. “Really?”

“I am afraid that this is no jest.” Placing the soft bird in his hand within the crook of his arm, he pulled the pocket square from his blazer and his spectacles from his nose, making a show of removing any smudges. “Do you think I would have put you through this after you expressed your discomfort if it wasn’t completely necessary?”

The wheels were turning, Ignis could certainly tell, and it only took a moment for resignation to cross such tender features. After a minute or two, the blond jumped off of the examination table, stepping silently over to the advisor - pausing before him and nodding sullenly, letting the man lead him out of the room, doctor awaiting them both with a kind expression before opening the nearby door. Ushering them inside, she seated Prompto upon the drawing chair before taking her leave, the phlebotomist sitting at a monitor taking a moment to type along his keyboard - rolling his chair over as soon as the chamberlain himself decided it best to sit on a stool beside the blond.

The specialist took his time, pulling several tubes and syringes from a clear compartment, his companion watching with wide hues. And how his fingers nervously pulled at the hem of his vest as the man took his arm carefully, tying off his bicep with a rubber band before speaking.

“The band's a little tight, but just stay nice and calm and it’ll be over quickly.”

Though Ignis himself had nodded, such was not the same for Prompto, blond head moving from side to side frantically as he leant away from the man in scrubs - looking to the advisor with troubled eyes and quivering lip.

“I can’t do this. I can already feel my stomach churning!”

With a gentle tone, he offered encouragement. “You can do this, Prompto. You can do so much more than you believe.”

And he could, because as the chamberlain recalled, the gunner had more than proved his worth before the beast that was Gladiolus; 

 

> _“You certainly gave him a confidence boost.” The shield’s expression had only hardened then, his teeth gritting, jaw set like stone as a growl escaped from his pressed lips as he stood before the advisor, his posture telling of disappointment - of anger. Ignis’ eyes fluttered in surprise before his lips curled into an amused simper, laughter in his voice as he spoke once more. “He truly bested you?”_
> 
> _The growl only grew louder then, gravel in the taller man’s voice as he shoved by, the chamberlain’s shoulders shaking in his jubilance. “Shut up.”_

Yes, Prompto was far stronger than anyone gave him credit for.

“It is alright.” A gloved hand reached forward to the blond’s own, prying it gently from his knee with effort, those slender fingers having grasped the fabric of his own trousers with so much force that his knuckles were a striking ivory. Yet, carefully still, the advisor took it within his own and mirrored the gentle words Prompto had spoken in the waiting room - holding it between his two capable hands. “I am here.”

A gloved hand couldn’t quite decide whether to hold on or let go, but he decided nonetheless, nodding as he attempted to even out his breaths - sucking in a rosy bottom lip, a watery sigh following. “Y-Yeah. You are.”

It seemed to be enough, thankfully, and just as before - the gunner calmed, his lids wet as he flinched from the initial pinch of the needle. And his eyes began to flicker around the room in panic before he set his sights on the quickly filling collection tube, substance deep in color.

“Avoid looking at your arm,” he was reminded ever so softly.

“Sorry! I’m sorry.”

Prompto did indeed look away, but there was a paleness about him that was rather worrisome; the advisor speedily caught his eye, patting his hand gently. “Come now, just look at me. You need only to pay attention to my voice,” his tone held a note of urgency behind it, but he remained tranquil, “Prompto?”

The stranger before them continued working, switching tubes, the last one filling while his patient looked near faint - leaning forward in his seat just a bit too far, Ignis reaching up to splay a hand across the man’s chest, suddenly on alert. “Have him hold on for one more moment.”

“I am unsure that he can...Prompto?”

“I’m going to need a stretcher in room three!”

“A stretcher?” It was but an instance in time, but suddenly neither of his hands held Prompto’s, one moving to lift his face - observing the glassy sheen of his eyes and the relaxation of his pupil’s, a coiling unease within his gut. “He’s lost consciousness - do something!”

“Sir, I need you to stop shouting.”

Inhaling sharply, he caught himself, eyes blinking rapidly as he attuned to his natural composition. “I...hadn’t realized I was.”

There was an influx of Citadel nurses separating himself and the blond in order to place him upon the makeshift bed without complication, hauling him out of the room; and Ignis was left rather useless, gloved fingers kneading his temple as he looked to the floor.

Chocolina was staring up at him from her place upon the tile.

He stared back.

* * *

“Owwww.”

“It is normal for your head to ache a bit upon waking. Are you feeling better?”

Ignis sat upright from his spot beside the bed they settled Prompto upon, one hand in the blond’s own and the other grabbing for the juice box standing on the lamp table, offering it to the man - whom of which took it, but didn’t bother to open it just yet, not when there was a hole in his arm, he was sure.

“I’m alright. I just...hate doctors.” There was something more to his tone, something that begged a question, but the advisor did not wish to press - especially when blue eyes spotted the moogle bandaid covering his wound, suddenly in search of his stuffed pet, to which Ignis indicated was just beside him. He took it with a nearly solemn smile, touching it to his cheek before remembering he had company; Prompto set it on his lap. “How long was I out?”

“Just for a couple of minutes. We are simply waiting on your test results since they seem to have drawn enough blood.” Prompto turned away for just a moment, looking a bit green, only looking to Ignis after he'd willed himself well. How he could have kicked himself for such an inane comment. “Forgive me, I was not thinking--”

But the other had only waved it off with a meek grin. “Ugh, just don’t say _‘blood,’_ please.”

“My apologies.”

Though he gazed with his very soul into eyes like the ocean, they did not gaze back - not for long, as they traveled to their joined hands, the advisor having clung worriedly to him with little thought for his actions. The gunner seemed entranced, looking to their woven fingers as though there were profound meaning to be gathered from their kissing palms, and Ignis found himself wrestling with nerves.

“...My apologies.”

Prompto’s only response was hold to him ever the more tightly.


	7. Guts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis misunderstands the meaning of 'letting go.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses heavily on Noctis and what he believes of the situation he's in. It's a bit of a warm chapter, meant to bring the story along and give the prince more of a role in the grand scheme of things! 
> 
> We are also pretending that offline multiplayer is a thing in Dissidia NT, like it should have been. ;;;;
> 
> Enjoy!

_"And all I wanted was to say "goodbye,"_

_Into the fortress that you're stuck behind._

_And in the silence now I realize,_

_That after all, I built the wall."_

_\- Ricochet, Starset_

 

Noctis was afraid. **  
**

King he would soon be, but there was nothing like overestimating a situation when his friends were involved, no matter how small and trivial it seemed. And as he raced through the halls of the Citadel, he only thought about the way he was running from one of the greatest friendships he’d ever known, body moving for Prompto - but there was no doubt that his thoughts were of Ignis.

It was so much easier to be angry with him, to forget the moment they’d met, joining hands and swearing that nothing could possibly get between them; Noctis didn’t quite know how it had escalated to the point in which there was tension each and every time they spoke. Sure, he’d been annoyed that the advisor was constantly on his back, but there was a part of him that knew why. He meant well, the prince was more than aware, yet - as he got older - he felt that no one thought him any wiser. And maybe that was his own fault, but something had to give.

He felt like he was losing the game more than he was winning it.

The bet was going horribly, if he were truthful. The first day, he believed he would all but starve, not quite getting the hang of cooking for his own or not spending money that wasn’t his. It was frustrating to take care on his lonesome because he realized that he couldn’t do it - for the while, anyway. The fact that he relied so much on Ignis made him angry with himself, because for how much he claimed to be independent, it hurt to know that he was still just a boy while Ignis was a man who didn’t need anybody to hold his hand.

_Doesn’t need me._

He couldn’t help but think back to the day before, already calm from time spent by himself, only to be reignited by the man’s presence in the hall - catching the chamberlain smiling as he went, calling Prompto a  _‘dream in comparison’_  - and he couldn’t decide if he hated him or if he felt guilty that all he had cost the other over the years was hours of his time fretting over a spoiled brat, not to mention that his best friend was probably willingly swept away by him.

Noctis’ stomach sunk.

It was so  _stupid_ , the entire fight he was having, with himself - with Ignis - over something he wouldn’t even care about in a year, didn’t care about years before. And thinking that there was even the slightest chance that the advisor was stealing Prompto from him was even more ludicrous, a product of his own insecurities, of everything he lacked.

_I hate this._

Noctis stopped thinking about it, choosing to instead run up to Prompto’s door in the medical wing, hoping to open it and be welcomed with open arms by the blond he’d become so close with - though, maybe with a few bumps and bruises, as Gladio bragged. However, the scene he was met with was a bit of a disappointment, the gunner and Ignis in close quarters - the advisor resting his chin upon his fist, elbow on the bed and his other hand woven with Prompto’s own, whom of which was happily prattling with a stuffed chocobo at his side and sipping from a juice box every so often.

For some reason, his skin burned with his embarrassment, as if he were walking in on a private moment - a moment he didn’t belong in. And Noctis had never thought himself a jealous guy, but somehow, watching the two interact as though they were blissful in each other’s company, he became just that.

It only fueled his ferocity.

“Noct?”

Prompto’s cheerful lilt caught his attention and the prince watched as the two awkwardly pulled their hands apart, Ignis looking a bit apprehensive as he met the prince’s eyes, a hand moving to adjust his collar as he stood - taking a pocket notebook from the bedside table and slipping it under his arm.

“Your Highness.”

It stung.

Eyes like the ocean flickered from his best friend to his advisor and back again, words difficult to formulate with the both of them before him, smiling and chatting on happily just moments before - only to shut down when he stepped through the door.

It was like he was a stranger.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Noctis nodded over to the gunner with a smile, at the very least relieved that he seemed alright; he began to forget, however, forget the true purpose of visiting - if it were even possible. “Hey, Prom. You mind if I talk to Ignis for a minute?”

“Uh,” the blond responded after a moment, blinking up at the advisor, whom seemed as ready for conversation as he ever would be. And part of the prince wondered how awful he was being, asking Prompto for permission to have a simple one on one, as though the chamberlain was an object to be kept. “Sure, I can wait outsi--”

“Do not be absurd.” Sharp as the daggers he wielded, Ignis quelled the very thought, looking to Prompto softly - the affirmative nod given like some kind of pact between them. “I must submit your health report anyhow. You just rest for the moment.”

“But, I’m fine!”

Noctis felt as though he was on the outside looking in, Prompto seeming reluctant to watch Ignis leave, as though he wanted for nothing but the man to stay sitting next to him. And he thought back to the blond’s crush, how the situation must have been like a trip to the  _Beyond_  for him so far; maybe his attitude toward them was childish, but the prince just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help that the advisor’s minor annoyances now felt like reason for war, but that’s how it was.

Stepping aside, he allowed the taller man to brush past him and into the hall, giving Prompto a quick glance and a promise to come right back after their conversation, swiftly closing the door and turning his attention to the subject of his unease - nearly surprised to see the his forlorn expression, only hidden with notice of the prince’s speculation. A quick adjustment of his glasses and Ignis was once again the picture of regality, though the softness somehow still remained, a sign tipping off the spoken word. “It was my fault. I hadn’t thought he would suffer so much from a simple doctor’s visit. I had hoped that, with encouragement, he would do just fine.”

“He  _hates_  the doctor. And I know you knew, he always complains about it.” It was biting, his tone, and it was then that Noctis realized he’d ceased to remember how to be civil; part of him disliked that even  _that_  may have been a product of the other’s influence.

“I was simply doing what I thought best for him—“

“Yeah, you’re great at ignoring what people actually want.”

The air grew cold and the prince was unsure if the lack of medical staff in the hall was fault of his own or not, but it didn’t matter, as suddenly - he felt as though he were centerstage in a room full of people, only they all had Ignis’ eyes. His gaze was brimmed with knowledge, yet furtive enough to hold secrets, and it would come as no surprise to him if his capable right hand knew just where to strike. 

“I have a feeling that this conversation is no longer about Prompto. I will refuse to stray from him, however; he is what you are here for, is he not?” Lips curled into a tight frown, pouty, one Noctis had witnessed in his worst of moments along with fleeting disappointment. “Did you not stop to think that, if he does not get examined yearly, he will be unable to remain your Crownsguard?”

There was a second in which he felt slightly struck with news of the fact, having never heard such a rule before, but the very last thing the bespectacled man would do was lie. “I...no, I didn’t.”

Ignis was hardly pleased with his answer, if the very way his lips pressed into a thin line were any indication, and without much else but a aligning of posture and a slightly condescending incline of the head - he did naught much to express his distaste, if not with word. “Of course not, such things are beneath you. I shall leave you both alone for the time being. Please,  _do ask_  how he is feeling.”

There was never a correct way to respond to a turn of the heel, a tone that bespoke finality and nothing less, and Noctis knew it to be true; it did not stop him from groaning in frustration as the other man walked away, nor did it stop him from reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, grumbling a weak call of the chamberlain’s name that failed to be answered. 

Standing there for longer than he knew was necessary, he tuned in to the sound of a particularly loud sip from a straw, and he nearly gave his forehead a smack for letting it slip his mind that Prompto was in an infirmary bed just behind the door his shoulder was favoring. There was a knot lingering within him and it took a moment to return to the state of apathy he was so used to showing to the outside world. 

Pulling away from the door, it was easy to throw it open and step inside, giving the blond a shy wave, though the other’s eyes were on anything but him. Noctis supposed he couldn’t blame anyone but himself, but he tried, not because he wished to condemn anyone - but because it was the easiest thing to do. And with a sigh, he decided that -  _maybe_  - it was time to put that to an end.

“How much of that did you hear?” Impossibly blue eyes looked his way, and the prince was thankful that, even though he probably should, Prompto never made him feel guilty under scrutinization. 

“Enough. I wish you guys would stop fighting.” Noctis could say nothing to the other’s statement; he didn’t want to fight either, didn’t even know how it became an argument in the first place, but he also didn’t want to settle - to submit to Ignis and prove him right. “I think he totally misses you.”

Moving to the chair the advisor had earlier occupied, he scrunched up his nose, finding it easier to speak to his best friend over anyone else - despite how long he’d known the other, there was something calming about the way the gunner took him without judgement. “He doesn’t act like it.”

“Well, neither do you.”

“Yeah...” He admitted, easily and without regret, which only aggravated the wound more and spurred him to change the subject. “How are you, though?”

Prompto seemed to have mastered the chamberlain’s inquisitive stare, but it quickly dissolved into the smile he was used to, taking a moment to reach over and place an empty juice package on the bedside table. “My head hurts, but it’s okay.”

“Heard they stuck you with a needle.” A confused look shot his way, but Noctis was more than prepared to answer the unspoken question with a shrug. “Word travels fast when you’re friends with the prince.”

“How special,” chuckling, the corners of his lips curled upward still, the freckles on his skin becoming a bit red, “and it’s okay. Iggy really helped! Except for that part where I passed out...my blood is fine, though! Right as rain, actually. The test came up totally great, all they told me was that my blood pressure was high.”

“Stress?”

“And anxiety.”

Lips curling into a heavy frown, Noctis felt the utmost sympathy for the gunner, as he knew his mind was a terrible place that often hindered more than it helped. Not that he knew everything about his best friend; the younger man could still be something of a mystery - hiding in plain sight. And part of him might have been to blame, because he wasn’t really too good at taking anything deeper than face value, not one to worry about how much he held inside, but the fact that Prompto was suffering... “Is it?”

“It’s not. Sure, my heart’s doing backflips and he makes my palms sweat, but he’s not hurting me,” a quiet sigh escaped him at just how easily the blond could admit things, and it occurred to him that he was a little envious. “It’s all the Crownsguard pressure. I’m worried I won’t be enough.”

“You’ll always be enough for me.” 

Noctis was met with a snort, watching as the other’s own gloved hand moved to rub at his freckled cheek, making him want to ease whatever burden was on Prompto’s shoulders - but he knew there wasn’t much he could offer. “We haven’t hung out in a while.”

“Noct, it’s been  _two_  days.”

“Three, but anyway. We should tonight. I got Dissidia-“

A hand slammed onto the few inches of mattress that wasn’t cradling the man, its owner practically  _vibrating_ where he sat. “Look Mister Two PS4s, if you think you can bribe me with Dissidia: Final Fantasy - you’re so right.”

* * *

Dissidia was not the groundbreaking, rage-gaming affair he’d been hoping for. 

Leaving the medical wing behind and getting comfortable up in his own rooms in the Citadel, he could only listen with a roll of his eyes as Prompto spoke at length about Ignis, and it took everything he had not to make a joke comparing him to a gossiping Iris. Even as he started up his console and they sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, his advisor was the only subject. And he supposed he couldn’t blame him, not really, because he  _did_  have a taste of what being in love felt like.

_Yeah, not gonna tell him._

It had felt like ages before the conversation wound down, the blond’s retelling of the last few days without him came with great detail, and as he watched Zidane Tribal run around Prompto’s barely moving Vayne Solidor on the television screen - he leant back, tossing his head to the seat cushion as the gunner spoke for minutes on end.

"We watched a movie together.” Golden tufts of hair tickled his cheek and it took barely a moment’s notice to see that his best friend had bumped shoulders with him - the feathery locks just a fleeting touch. “And he fell asleep, right there, you know? Right next to me.”

“Bet that was as close to your wet dreams as he’s ever been.”

“Hey, I’m being serious here!” With a small huff, Prompto’s fingers fiddled with the analogs of his controller, quickly unleashing an HP Attack that left Noctis feeling a bit betrayed. “Just, I dunno. I don’t really know what I’m gonna do when this is over. I mean, I’m really gonna miss him.”

In a way, the prince understood, though his words were less than eloquent in conveying the message. “He’ll always be around.”

“That’s not the point.” If he was unable to see the aggravation in the blond’s expression, it was more than apparent in his voice; either way, he seemed to get the thought of sub-conscience, swiftly, though not smoothly changing the subject. “So, what about you? What have you been doing this whole time?”

“Hanging out with Gladio, doing what I want without Ignis breathing down my neck.” Noctis wanted to scream, failing to catch his spill. And he knew better, he did, than to bring the conversation full circle to the man he wanted to avoid - and probably should have, his eye catching the sour look on the gunner’s face.

“Really? Just like that?”

There was a tone of disappointment in the other’s voice - he could not deny it - and though he loathed the fact, his resolve was quick to crumble in Prompto’s presence.

He was the only person he felt guilty for hiding from. 

“Look, I’m...I figured out how much it sucks without Iggy around the first day we started, okay?” Noctis could feel his own jutting bottom lip, hoping he’d be rid of the blond’s curiosity and that his admittance would be accepted as it was. However, his hopes were dashed - his best friend turning to him in surprise, setting the controller down entirely. 

It was then he knew Dissidia NT would have to wait. 

“Why haven’t you told him?” The question wasn’t met with an answer, only a long, drawn sigh and a groan as the prince moved to shimmy up onto the sofa - tossing his head atop the nearest throw pillow, Prompto following, looming over him from his spot on the floor. “I know he doesn’t admit it, but, it stresses him out - not being there for you.”

“I don’t need him there constantly, though. He’s like a shadow sometimes.”

“I think you  _both_  are a little dumb. A lot of your problems would be solved if you just talked to each other,” the blond lifted an index in response to Noctis’ head rising from the sham, frown growing deeper by the moment, “like  _friends_  would!”

There was an ache, dull, but an ache nonetheless - proving Prompto’s words to be true. It was simple to take things for granted and Ignis was always one of them, always there without fail or complaint. And no matter how difficult things were, he’d never strayed, prepared to help in every way he could. 

And even in ways he couldn’t, because he was a man who would refuse to cease until he  _found_ a way.

_To let something stupid get between us..._

_...I really want to sleep._

“...I’ll talk to him, okay? Just, not right now and not today. Can we drop it?”

“Only if you pinky swear.” Form pressed to the edge of the couch, bony elbow poking into Noctis’ side, a little finger was wiggled before him, which was reluctantly hugged with another. “That’s fair.”

The both of them shared a glance, a moment of silence in respect to the agreement before picking up their controllers once more, playing through a quick round - Prompto suddenly laughing under his breath.

“What are  _you_  so giddy about?”

“I’m at least glad to know I won the bet and that we’re gonna see chocobos.”

Whatever apprehension he held disappeared at the comment, his more than competitive nature emerging and - fast as  _Lightning_  - the prince’s strikes across the screen became a force to be reckoned with, VICTORY spelled before them for his efforts. “You haven’t won anything yet. I’m still doing everything on my own, and when  _I’ve_ beat  _you_ , we’re all going to  _The Assassin’s Festival_ next month.”

Starting up another round, the gunner beside him looked a bit skeptical. “The one your dad said  _no_  to?”

“As a gesture of good faith, he said I can go if I prove you wrong.”

“Oh, man,” a gut-wrenching laughter erupted like that of the fires of Ravatogh, skeptical expression accompanying it. “He’s totally expecting you to lose!”

“Shut up.”

They both settled then, Noctis sitting upright and comfortable as Prompto slowly took the spot beside him; both looking to their respective characters with soft, gentle smiles that spoke of their contentment. And after a long silence, bereft of words that weren’t spouted from a speaker, the blond hummed.

“Hey, Noct, can I wear those assassin pajamas tonight?”

“The ones with the cape and hood?” There was a single beat. “No way.”


	8. Send Noods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was always a lot on Ignis' mind, but Prompto seemed to take up quite a bit of storage space as of late, and he posed a huge distraction to his everyday life.
> 
> Gladiolus and Nyx might just have a way to fix that.
> 
> Or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so SORRY this took so long - I am UNWORTHY OF YOUR LOVE.

_"Turpentine erase me whole,_

_'Cause I don't want to live my life alone."_

_\- Honeybee, Steam Powered Giraffe_

Stepping into a prince’s empty apartment was not quite a part of the norm nowadays.

Unlike many mornings in which Noctis was asleep or lounging about, it felt too silent, too unlike a home away from home - bereft of the life and laughter Prompto had given it. Somehow, he half expected the blond to be curled up under the comforter, but the bed had yet to be touched; though, it hadn’t quite been made either.

He quickly remedied that. 

Ignis did not bother to linger, as for once, he couldn’t locate the need to be there as often as he did; laundry and other household chores could have been completed, but he didn’t see himself doing them, not then. Instead, he left the apartment as empty as he found it, locking the door behind him. 

And the drive to the Citadel had become an effort that morning, not simply another daily task, but a trial - fingers turning the volume dial for seconds before turning it down again, frustrating the advisor to no end that he could not even listen to music without thinking of melodious laughter ringing alongside electric guitar rifts.

He had only been away from the man for a night, nothing one would call extreme for someone who was merely a friend. 

But he could not  _cease_  thoughts of him.

After meeting with Noctis once again, he’d been a bit peeved, the very ignorance the prince had shown leaving a bitter taste in his mouth; as he had only done his best to help him still, despite the mistreatment and petty argument they seemed to be having. There was no doubt that he felt defensive around the younger man more now than ever, and it pained him to think that every encounter would be so terse; he hoped that would not be the case in the future, as things were difficult enough as it was without the prince’s persistent tantrums.

Stopping before the Citadel, he stepped out of the car, turning it over to his regular glaive and heading inside without so much as greeting him; the officer hadn’t the gall to look offended, at the very least, and he silently noted to thank him for his services later. He had far too much on his own mind to dwell on the pleasantries of others, it was unfeasible, he still had an entire day to push through whilst fighting laughing eyes and dusted freckles that danced about his thoughts without an end in sight. 

The double doors were as heavy as they’d always been, and the Citadel, bustling - as it always was on days when meetings were to be held, preparing to have the entirety of the council in one room was rather stressful on the staff, he was sure.

Especially when it came to the very King of Insomnia himself. 

He was on a maintenance level of his own. 

Quickly ticking through a mental checklist, he sorted through any political bases they were to be covering, in case he happened to be asked for his opinion; however, he simply expected a rather relaxed discussion. Things were... good, as of late; Niflheim was suspiciously dormant, but by the standard of most, he would dare to call it peace. 

Now, if he could only clear his mind of--

“Lord Scientia.”

That would do. 

“Lord?”

“Or, perhaps, soon-to-be Lord Scientia. His Highness  _is_  coming of age.” Small, but kept in a finely tailored pantsuit, a lively woman stood before him inquisitively - hands clasped behind her person. “Are you here for the prince?”

It was a question he shouldn’t have been surprised to hear, but nonetheless, he was unnerved. “A meeting; might I ask why you inquire?”

“Why, because he is here in the Citadel kitchens with the young Amicitia. I simply assumed you would be joining them, given your culinary prowess. Forgive me.”

_The kitchens?_

Ignis did not so much as sniff as the woman nodded her head and stepped around him, seemingly used to being cast away instead of waiting for the appropriate reply. It was just the way, he supposed. What further interested him was the fact that Noctis was in the  _kitchens_ , and with Gladiolus, no less. And as he changed course with a pivot and a sigh, he allowed his curiosity to best him, making way with quick footsteps in his companions’ known direction - only silencing the click of his heels once he’d arrived within the small corridor leading to his destination. 

His body came to an immediate pause at the sound of a familiar voice. 

“Pour slowly! Don’t shock the noodles!”

Gladolus’ voice was as memorable as they came, especially when coupled with instructions for combining boiling water and pre-packaged soups, no doubt attempting to teach someone how to curate the ‘perfect cup.’ And, as far as he was aware, that person was Noctis - though what for, he did not know. 

“They’re just noodles, Gladio.”

Bingo. 

“Hey, don’t insult me.” In any other circumstance, he would be ashamed of eavesdropping in on a conversation, but he was not - especially as he and the crown royal were not exactly on the best of terms; it was the only means of civil communication, if one could even call it that. 

To accuse him of not caring for the desires of others...

...It was not to be thought about, not when he was going out of his way to be unseen in the first place, meandering about his thoughts would risk him standing out if he failed to be alert. 

“Anyway, where were we?”

“Prompto.” Noctis’ voice chimed into the conversation easily, spoken confidence apparent when his best friend was in the realm of topic; the advisor swallowed as he awaited Gladio’s response with bated breath, just the mere utterance of the blond’s name placing him a bit on edge. “He should be down here doing this, not in my room watching those crappy space shows he likes while I slave over noodles.”

Peeking from around the corner of the doorway ever so carefully, he caught sight of the prince filling the last foam cup with boiling water, surely cooking their dishes along with the shield’s favored toppings. Beside him, the taller man was carefully inspecting his wristwatch, an action that was always cause for a roll of the eyes - even Ignis’ own - as he’d always insisted that timing was key where his favorite food was concerned. 

“That’s right. And stop whinin’.”After a long moment, Gladiolus lifted his head, snapping his fingers and pointing an index the prince’s way. “I wonder when he’s gonna stop talking about him and just go for it.”

Noctis’ expression soured, as it was only so full of emotion when he was dealing with something he couldn’t quite like, and as his arms crossed over his chest - he exhaled with a suck of his teeth. “He’s just a little worried, I guess. I’d encourage him, but I’m not too into the idea.”

“The idea of him... likin’ the guy?”

“That’s right.”

Ignis didn’t want to admit it and perhaps he never would, but standing pressed to the wall of the Citadel kitchens, exhibiting disrespectful behavior that was rather unlike him - he could feel his palms sweating beneath his gloves and the pale flesh of his cheeks rise with heat, because somewhere within, he concluded that there was no other  _‘guy’_  they could possibly be speaking of other than he. 

It was a selfish thought, a vain one; Prompto being romantically attracted to the chamberlain was not so farfetched. He had noticed subtle and not so sublte signs, had read them much like the countless tomes within the tower’s library, but he’d put them away just the same - forgotten as the cosmogony text he’d skimmed ages ago. And it was not due to the fact that he found the affection unflattering, or unwanted, no; it was simply the fact that, if those feelings were readily accepted--

He, too, would be unable to save himself from the fall.

There was too much at stake, and it was just absurd, harboring feelings for the best friend of his prince. It was political suicide, in such a case in which anything went  _wrong_ , and social as well - because he couldn’t deny how much he valued his friendships, no matter how fragile the construction. 

Breathing deeply, Ignis pulled his eyes from the pair, leaning his head back against the cool marble; he was content with listening. 

“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you got your panties in a bunch.” There was a scoff and the sound of a pot being thrown unceremoniously into the sink, the shield’s voice giddy with amusement. “Or maybe you’re  _jealous_.”

“As if!”

“You totally are!”

“I’m not!” Noctis’ pitch had risen an octave, as it usually did when he was flustered, and the bespectacled man had to resist the urge to laugh along with his oldest friend. 

“Don’t let  _you know who_  know that.”

Piqued curiosity getting the better of him, dangerous emeralds set their sights upon the prince once more in result of the surprising line, catching the crimson visage of the crown frowning as he gave Gladiolus a swift punch. 

“Shut up. I don’t even like Prompto like that. I just...” Calming, Noctis braced himself against the counter, looking to their noodles forlornly. “He’s my best friend. We’re all supposed to be  _friends_ , what happens if something, you know, happens?”

_My thoughts exactly._

“Doubt it. Have a little faith, would ya?”

Ignis did smile then, at the admittance of trust or the unspoken ‘go ahead,’ he was unsure. What he was sure of was the fact that Noctis did not approve, if the twist of his lips meant anything of the sort. “Whatever. I’m tired of Prom always  _talking_  about him. I just wish he’d get on with it and just ask him out.”

“I’ve got an idea on how to fix that problem.” The shield’s large hand wrapped readily around his Cup Noodle container, picking it up as he pulled his cellular from the pocket of his open shirt, tapping along the screen with his thumb in order to dial before placing it to his ear - a brief pause and a slurp sounding before he spoke again. “Hey, Ulric.”

Brows furrowing, the advisor could not begin to understand what was being planned that involved one of the glaives; however, the very thought of being part of anything out of his control was more than exhausting. Sighing tiredly, he’d momentarily forgotten his place, quickly reminded as he heard Noctis call out in response to the exhalation. 

“Is someone there?”

Ignis made haste, keeping his footsteps as quick and quiet as possibly, exiting through the nearest door into the hallway before sprinting - ignoring the looks of the staff as he distanced himself from the kitchens. The grand hall wasn’t far from there, and with one more great cross, he found himself before the meeting room, the whole of the Council outside of the door; they looked to him in confusion with tilted heads and frowning eyes he could not avoid respectfully.

The chamberlain merely straightened his posture, gloved hand smoothing the front of his blazer as he nodded their way. 

“High members of the Council. Good afternoon.”

* * *

The meeting drug on listlessly, a monotonous droll of politics that he would usually be all too prepared to partake in debating had little to no success of truly reaching him in any manner. When he was first seated, a member of the High Council had begun to speak at length about the northern sector of the city’s security, and - somewhere along the numerous line - he failed to notice as each new speaker stood and contributed to the conversation, his mind having only room to mull over past events involving Noctis, Prompto, and now, Gladiolus.

What would have been words faded into a mindless hum, a buzz of inaudible syllables that set the tone of his daydreams; they came to him like the pleasure of silken sheets in the morning hours and a fresh cup of Ebony, pervaded by blue eyes like blue skies. 

There was suddenly silence, save for the incessant sound of a pen clicking over and over, and it was only a moment more before he realized that  _he_  was making such sound - more than a dozen eyes on his person as he came to, perhaps well over an hour into the discussion, those of the king included. 

He stilled his hand, lips parting to apologize, and body hot with embarrassment - but Regis, regal and calm, was the first to comment. “Ignis, are you paying attention?”

“I...” He was not; he  _had_  not been for the while and he was sure the king knew, old hues had certainly scoured the planes of the advisor’s empty page, and if he had a thing more to say on the subject, he refrained from doing so. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

The meeting room was eerily silent, a clear indication that his apologies were not quite enough, as he was attending such gatherings as a privilege and without proper status yet; there was no response to his own and Ignis worried that he’d truly offended the members sitting alongside him. The chamberlain merely wished Gladiolus was there to offset the tone of seriousness about the room, in which he found slightly suffocating. 

Instead of continuing to fret, he shrunk back into his seat, hoping his long form appeared small enough to go unnoticed. 

Regis must have decided mercy was required of him, reaching forward to take a notebook or two, raiments of gold and black enveloping him as he leant over to his right in order to whisper in Clarus’ ear. And the shield stood then, brilliant presence of the king beside him as he raised his left hand, giving the room in its entirety a nod. “Members of the Council. We thank you for your honored presence; you are hereby dismissed.”

With a single glance more, the men slowly lead the departure, the rest of the councilmen and women following suit - one after the other - until no one but the prince’s advisor was left, and he was unsure if the sigh he soon emitted was in relief or the outstanding disappointment he happened to harbor in himself for the whole ordeal. 

It took a moment of silence and a minute of gathering his sparse belongings before he stood, leaving the room himself with a step much less hardy, berating his behavior somewhere in the back of his mind. And closing the heavy oak behind him, he simply resolved to forgetting the hour he spent on the other side and beginning anew the next day, opting to move on and task himself with picking up a tailored suit for Prompto; they  _were_  expected to attend a gala in a few days’ time, of course, it was only right to be prepared.

He somehow doubted he would see the blond that day, especially where Noctis was involved. 

Luckily, he had quite a few errands to run in order to keep himself busy. 

Ignis’ trek down the hall was met with the kind faces of the Citadel staff, always ready to greet him, though he was never truly approached - the pleasant air of it all quickly removed the tension spinning the steel of his shoulders. And the gentle breeze that met his tired visage, windswept his tidy locks, did much for his sanity as he stepped through a pair of doors and into the courtyard. 

There was not a soul about, it seemed, and only the sound of his footsteps accompanied the flit of birds’ wings and the rustle of leaves - allowing for an inhalation of sweet, fragranced air that felt much like peace. He kept himself along the stone road between a column of ornate pillars, finding a much needed moment of reprieve amongst the blooming peonies after racing thoughts and foolish actions marred the majority of his day. 

That was, until a flash and crack of lightning was cause for him to cease all movement; the remnants of a warpstrike with no enemy revealing the grinning countenance of a well known glaive. 

“ _Ignis_ , how ya doin’?”

The tension made itself known once more, coiling within him defensively, as though his body remembered a peculiar conversation from that very morning before his mind recalled it; however, the advisor had always been quick to catch up. 

On his guard, he would be.

“Ah, Ulric,” he responded thus, kindly as was necessarily warranted, “quite fine, thank you. Might I assist you with anything today?”

He and Nyx hadn’t spent much time together, only having completed tasks for Citadel events with one another when they happened to be the only two men left unassigned. He would admit the glaive good company - intelligent and frank, and quite opinionated - but there was something about their meeting there that was a bit too suspicious considering the circumstances. 

“Yeah, actually...” Crinkling hues looked to the east, and in response, the advisor turned to glance in the same direction - only for the glaive to obstruct his line of sight, leaning against a pillar lining the slender walkway, just a bit too close for comfort as he placed a warm hand upon Ignis’ arm. “I wanted to see if maybe you wanna get together tonight? You know, we can get acquainted.”

Eyes narrowing in disbelief, the chamberlain reeled for barely a beat, expression firm and lips a thin line before they softened -  inclining his head with an upturn of the lips, deciding to play along with a coy look he’d figure any man would fancy; he would unravel the game soon enough if he played along.

“I have a rather busy schedule, you know. How ever shall I fit you in?” A platinum flurry caught the man’s eye from over the glaive’s shoulder as he spoke, just able to make out blue eyes gazing at him from the other end of the stone path, brows frowning and skepticism upon his pale visage; somehow, for a reason both unknown and well understood to him, Ignis felt as though he’d committed an act of betrayal. “Prompto?”

The blond must have heard him, as he flinched in surprise, though - instead of acknowledging the bespectacled man at all - he simply stood with a quivering lip, looking terribly upset.

“Just ignore him.”

But he could not, and stepping away from Nyx entirely with the intent of confronting the gunner himself about the matter; there was truly no purpose nor reason for explanation, however still, he felt the need to give reassurance. The younger man was quick on his feet, unfortunately, turning heel into a  _run_  in order to get  _away_  from the advisor, the very thought compromising his steely emotions as he made to follow after him - if only for a chance to speak.

The glaive so interested in garnering his attentions took hold of his arm without warning, wolfish grin a distraction to most, but Ignis had someone else on his mind. “Hold it, hold it. Let’s talk a bit more--”

“Captain Drautos and I have quite the respect for each other; do you really enjoy guard duty so much?” Venomous threats were serious game, but the chamberlain felt nearly regretful about it once Nyx had let him go as though he were aflame, presenting a stiff upper lip in his defense. And lowering his head, Ignis bowed apologetically, pursing his thin lips - not truly wishing to offend the man. “I...I apologize. I should go.”

Nyx merely shrugged his shoulders as Ignis turned to walk away, a bit dejected as he pulled a kukri from its sheath. 

“Dumb idea anyway."

* * *

It was utterly  _irrational_.

Striding through the halls after a rather long elevator ride, the advisor felt as though he was performing the  _‘walk of shame,’_  heading back home to apologize for his harmful behavior; though, it wasn’t  _harmful_  at all, not in his opinion. It was nonsense that he felt such a way simply because the gunner happened to see him speaking to Nyx Ulric of all people, whom of which was under the influence of Gladiolus’ will, he was positively sure of that. 

It was completely foolish, the entire thing. 

Still, he _knew_.

He understood on some level, he supposed, the complexity of the other man’s feelings - and it was clear to him that the position the glaive had cornered him in  _had_  seemed a bit suggestive. It was only normal, albeit  _irrational_ , that he may have upset the blond during a time he was still quite vulnerable; they had been dancing around strange, new feelings for days, it seemed. 

Perhaps retrieving Prompto’s attire for the gala would have to wait, but there was a lesson he’d learned about the blond over the many years he’d endured the gunner’s spats with Noctis, and that was the younger man’s habit of brooding for days - soon to sweep it under the rug without once attempting to remedy the situation.

If there  _was_  a situation, but Ignis was never one to take a sad face lightly.

And he would be found easily enough, though he was quite a bit faster and had a lead on him for several minutes at least, however - Noctis’ chambers weren’t truly difficult to find, he only feared being able to get into them as he finally reached the door that led to the prince’s parlor. Thankfully, it was unlocked, and he slipped inside as silently as he possibly could - a sudden nervousness overcoming his senses as he took in the neat and tidy appearance of the room. 

Bespectacled eyes scoured the place, video game controllers littering an otherwise kept table before a flatscreen television, a few  _Game Inquirers_  flipped open - but otherwise, everything was untouched. It was awfully quiet, he could only think, having had the hunch that Prompto would at least decide to go where he felt most safe; the room of his best friend just seemed... right.

Ignis paced forward until he reached the door of his charge’s sleeping chambers, expecting the knob to resist him as a gloved hand moved to turn it, but he found it gave easily - a weighty, disappointed huff escaping him as he allowed the door to swing open fully, frigid gust of wind chilling his cheeks due to the prince’s affinity for the cold. 

He had been wrong.

And the room was empty.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments keep me writing!
> 
> You can find more of my Final Fantasy works on [Tumblr](http://birdsandivory.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How to Take Care of Prompto the Chocobo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848055) by [BabyChocoboAlchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyChocoboAlchemist/pseuds/BabyChocoboAlchemist)




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